


give your ghost

by plasticities



Category: Justified
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Chaptered, Gen, M/M, Multi, Other, Post-Apocalypse, Rabies, Swearing, Unspecified Timeline, Wish you weren't so fucking awkward bud, late to the party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-11-17
Packaged: 2019-07-28 22:05:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 38,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16250717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plasticities/pseuds/plasticities
Summary: Everything's gone to shit again. Only thing Raylan hates more than being forced to run is being forced to keep the peace. At least Rachel's having such a good time at his expense that she's starting to enjoy the end of the world.





	1. 4:32 a.m./80 days

**Author's Note:**

> i'm an inconsistent person sorry.  
> surgery recovery means i already wrote a ton of this so if like anyone is still around in this fandom i'll probably toss it all on here. we're rewatching the series, i gotta do something to avoid season six (i got no beef with it, it's just damn sad).  
> oh and uh tim will probably show up eventually or at least be addressed in some way, i love me some gutterson.  
> thanks for proofing, babe.

4:32 a.m.

80 days

-

 

    "I would stop walkin', I were you."

    The figure down the hall stopped walking, tilting their head slightly to the side. They turned slowly, intending to face him.

    "Easy now," Raylan warned, hand on the butt of his gun. "Awful dark in here. Wouldn't wanna panic and shoot you."

    They raised their hands up over their head, bag swinging back and forth in the dark from their closed fist. He waited on them to move, squinting through the shadowed hallway, trying to make anything out about them. Once they were facing him he took his flashlight out, flicking the safety off his gun with a thumb and holding it in his right while he switched on the flashlight. They were hooded by their sweater. Raylan shone the light directly into their eyes, figuring it couldn't hurt to blind them a little. 

    "Son of a bitch, Raylan," they rasped, reaching up for their hood.

    "Hey, I told you not to fuckin' move." Raylan paused, holding the flashlight closer to their face. "Boyd?"

    Boyd stared back at him, pupils mere pinpricks in muddy rings of color. Raylan did not put his gun away. Boyd said, "Oops."

    "You wouldn't happen to be trying to rob us now, would you?"

    "An insulting accusation." Boyd handed him the bag. "Hardly a friendly welcome. Why, are you sure you're supposed to be the greeter?"

    Raylan took the heavy bag from him with a pinky, flashlight momentarily wavering. "I'da had friendlier company out if you'd called ahead. Other bag too."

    Boyd gave him a look, but pulled a plastic bag full of loose pills out of his back pocket. "You can put down the gun now, son."

    "Anything else?"

    "You wanna frisk me?"

    Raylan dropped the bags at his feet, slowly lowering his gun. He pushed the safety back on and holstered it. "I'll pass tonight. Got friends waiting outside?"

    Boyd hesitated. He squinted through the bright glare of the flashlight to take in Raylan's face, and Raylan pointedly held his gaze. "I do not. Planning on shooting me?"

    "Planning on giving me a reason to?"

    "Not another one, anyway."

    Considering the bags on the floor, Raylan said, "The pills, I figure you can make some deals with those. What's the rest?"

    Boyd licked his lips. "Food."

    Raylan nudged his foot against the bag until the top fell open, and shone the light on a few of the cans. "Well, your story checks out. Problem is, I got a bit of a conundrum here now, don't I?"

    "I don't presume to know what you're on about," Boyd replied, adjusting the sleeves of his jacket. 

    It was weird, musing on Boyd Crowder wearing anything with a hood. Shit, at least it wasn't white. "I let you run off and you'll just sneak back in here and go through our shit again. I put a bullet in you and I gotta explain the body to everyone, and folks these days aren't as trusting as they used to be. Might help my street cred, though."

    Boyd smiled. "You about as frightening as a puppy-dog, Raylan."

    It was Rachel's voice that came down the hall then, and Raylan's turn to go temporarily blind by way of her flashlight. "Raylan? The hell you doing out here?"

    Raylan breathed in slow and turned to look at her. "Intercepting a fugitive."

    "Fugitive," Boyd scoffed. "Honestly, ain't we a little past that?"

    Rachel came to stand with them and set her hands on her hips. She looked Boyd over with a bit of a frown. "Y'all plan a midnight rendezvous?"

    "More of a raccoon knocking over the trash bins in the middle of the night," Raylan told her, before Boyd could get any ideas about talking.

    "You check him over yet?"

    "Didn't think there was any point."

    "You hit your head?"

    Boyd raised a hand halfway and Raylan held one of his own up in front of him. "You just- hush a second. You saying he should stay? I don't recall you hittin' yours."

    Rachel rubbed her forehead, cracked her neck. "Long as he's healthy, why wouldn't he stay? Last I checked we needed another pair of hands around here. 'Less you plan on causing trouble."

    "No, ma'am," Boyd assured her.

    "Then check him over."

    Raylan stared at her, working his jaw as he mulled it over. After a moment, Boyd cleared his throat and said, "Kind as your invitation is, Miss Brooks, I think I've annoyed your partner enough for one lifetime."

    The wind picked up outside and Raylan glanced towards the nearest window, listening to its howl against the shuddering glass. He ran his tongue over his teeth and stared at the ceiling. "Guess we do need a little help."    

    He could feel Boyd staring at him. Rachel was too, but with a ton less patience. She yawned and elbowed him, nodding back towards the west wing. "I'm going back to bed. Imagine you won't be up too early. Crowder knows I'll blow his brains out if he makes me regret this, right?"

    Raylan looked at Boyd and spread an arm. Boyd looked at Rachel. "I could say I know, but what's got you taking me at my word now, Miss Brooks?"

    "Considering the state of things these days?" She glanced between them. "I don't need to. You're hardly a threat."

    "I'm hurt."

    "You'll live. Night, Raylan."

    "Night, Rachel," he murmured. He watched her light fade down the hall, listening to her soft footsteps, then picked up the bags Boyd had tried to make off with. "After you."

    "Afraid you'll have to lead the way, Raylan. I never did come by here, 'fore all this," Boyd told him.

    "Two things." Raylan grabbed him by the elbow and shoved him forward, down the hall. "One, I never did like turning my back on you. Two, you're wrong."

    "Am I, now?" Boyd kept half an eye on him as they walked, Raylan dimming his flashlight halfway. After a few steps, he made Boyd carry the heavier bag. "Now just why would I lie about having been here before?"

    Raylan shrugged. "S'pose you just don't remember. You always were a bit slow. That's fine, I'll remind you. Came here on a field trip once, supposed to learn all about state history. Wasn't that you weren't interested so much as you figured it was beneath your education level, so you spent the afternoon tryn'a convince some of the dumber kids the place was haunted. Telling ghost stories, slamming doors with your heel. I tell ya, wasn't the worst field trip we ever had, 'til you got in shit for it and took me down with you." He paused, catching Boyd smiling. "Yeah, you remembered, just wanted to hear it. Always so proud of yourself."

    "This business with checking me over," Boyd replied, putting his hands in the pockets of his jeans. "I got the right to request a male or female agent, right?"

    "Sorry." Raylan leaned up on the door to the bathroom. "I'm the best you got."

-

    "I find this fairly demeaning, Raylan. What ever happened to taking a man at his word?

    "Didn't you just go over all that with Rachel? If you shut up, this'll go a whole lot faster."

    Boyd sighed, undoing the last two buttons of his shirt. Raylan figured this would be a good bit easier were electricity as easy to come by as it used to be. Instead, he shone his flashlight back on Boyd's face, watching him close his eyes and turn his head. "Good Lord, Raylan, you could at least warn a fella."

    "Sorry," Raylan said, not sorry. "Gotta see your eyes too."

    Boyd gave him a dirty look but glanced back towards him. "Usually folks just take your temperature."

    "I can do that too, makes you feel better," Raylan offered, shining the light around his ears, down his neck. "It shows up in the veins a whole lot faster though. Body never has time to fight off the infection. By the time you get running a fever you're already fucked."

    "You're fucked either way, ain'tchu."

    "Yeah, well. Gives the rest of us time to ditch you." Raylan flicked him under the chin. "Head back."

    Boyd tilted his head back, the length of his pale throat accessible in a way it hadn't been to Raylan in a good ten, twenty years now. He watched his skin shift as Boyd said, "I can't imagine you leaving anyone behind, Raylan."

    "Mm." His shoulders were clear. Usually when it showed up it was most visible in the wrists, the insides of the elbows, the neck, but you never knew where someone was dumb enough to stick a needle. Or their dick. He glanced along Boyd's upper arm and stopped, tilting his head. "Now who'd you piss off?"

    Boyd glanced toward the large rectangle of scarred skin on his arm, pink in the way that only really gnarled skin tended to get when it was stretched out thin. "What makes you think I pissed someone off?"

    "'Cause you always piss someone off."

    Boyd's lip quirked up. "Well, the tattoo wasn't helping with that, now was it?"

    "You did that to yourself?" Raylan found himself thumbing the scar for a second, fascinated by the ridges and valleys. "Shee-yit."

    "It became a bit of a problem out here, since survival these days relies a whole helluva lot on people not hating you on sight."

    Raylan found himself doubting that people's feelings on the matter had influenced much of Boyd's decision to remove a considerable portion of his skin. Still, "Can't say it ain't an improvement."

    "You did always like scars."

    "Did not," Raylan muttered, dimly aware he was allowing Boyd to get under his skin so soon. He tried to turn the topic back around. "What'd you use?"

    "A pocket knife."

    "Lucky you didn't go septic." He checked Boyd's other arm, holding him by the wrist to keep his forearm out. "Or get MRSA or something. I gotta ask- how'd you get the balls to do it? Doubt you had much in the way of local anesthesia."

    Boyd turned his arm over obediently when Raylan rotated his wrist. "First you ask me to take my clothes off, now you wanna talk about my balls?"

    "How's being a smartass going for you these days? Oughta drive folks crazier than the tattoo ever did."

    "Still got all my teeth."

    "For now. Keep talkin'."

    Boyd laughed, raising his arms over his head when Raylan prompted him to. He was stronger maybe, or he'd gotten skinnier and it was a trick of the shadow. Either way, the muscles stood out along his arms. The light from the lantern gave his pale skin a warmer glow, and the flashlight settled over the bullet scar in the middle of his chest. Raylan found he didn't like looking at it, and didn't feel like dealing with the why of that just yet. Boyd asked, "How many of you are there?"

    Raylan was grateful for another topic. "Four, including myself. Used to be twelve."

    "What happened?"

    "What do you think?" He worked the light down Boyd's abdomen. "You were wrong. I can leave people behind."

    "I suppose you're right," Boyd said, voice low. He was staring at Raylan, watching him examine his skin like he was grading him on it. "I oughta know that best, hm?"

    Raylan ignored him, clenching his molars and breathing through his nose. He looked at the holes in the knees of Boyd's jeans and lowered the flashlight. "Gotta get out of them jeans."

    Boyd hopped off the sink and undid the button on his jeans. He looked up at Raylan as he did and Raylan, for a second, flashed back to Boyd looking up at him through long lashes and undoing his jeans just the same. Except Raylan had had other plans back then. "I need to take my underwear off as well or you gonna take my word on my dick?"

    "I'll take your word on it," Raylan decided, looking up at the ceiling as Boyd took his jeans off. As though that might lend him any privacy. "Should turn around first, I'll look at your back."

    Boyd did as he was told. The scorpion tattoo settled around his shoulder blade stood out against his skin, but no darkened veins ran down his spine. His spine itself stood out, the same way it had when they were boys and Bo had taken off for a couple weeks at a time, leaving Boyd's mama scraping together meals from pocket change. "You're taking your sweet time," Boyd commented, rolling his shoulders.

    "Being thorough," Raylan mumbled. He tapped him on the hip with the flashlight. "Go 'head and turn back around. Just your legs now."

    "You know I ain't foolish enough to get myself infected and not know about it."

    "I know," he sighed, watching Boyd hop back up on the sink. "But you'll forgive me for not feeling like rolling the dice on faith alone."

    Boyd swung his feet while Raylan looked over his legs, clearly agitating to move. Boyd had never been good at sitting still for long periods. Raylan excelled at it; could lounge in one place with his hat over his eyes for hours at a time. But Boyd had always been a quasi-manic ball of energy. "How is your faith these days, Raylan?"

    "Same's it ever was," he told him. "Only real difference these days is that now you ain't the only religious nut preaching about the apocalypse."

    "Now I didn't preach about no apocalypse, son."

    "Apocalypse, downfall of civilization, whatever you wanna call it. Where'd you get this cut from?"

    It was scabbed over, skin hardened in a thick line over Boyd's milk-white thigh. "I tripped."

    "Yeah, and you tripped every day growing up too." Raylan didn't believe it for a second. "Keep an eye on it, alright?"

    "Yes, sir," Boyd replied, looking amused. 

    He had goosebumps on his thighs, Raylan noted. He switched hands with the flashlight and bent down to check around his knees. "You cold?"

    "I do happen to be fucking freezing, yes."

    "Well, I'm almost done. Hey, you need to go anywhere to get your stuff?"

    Boyd shook his head. Raylan decided not to ask a follow-up question, and instead looked over his shins and feet before straightening up and handing Boyd his shirt back. Boyd took it and slipped an arm in the sleeve. Raylan watched him get dressed, and maybe it was because he was overtired but he let himself remember watching Boyd get dressed way back when. Sweaty and grinning and bitching about the heat. A far cry from shivering in a dark bathroom with decades and bullets between them. "You're awful preoccupied tonight, deputy."

    "I'm not a deputy anymore," Raylan pointed out. "Need law and order for deputy to be a rank that means something."

    "Well, cowboy then," Boyd retorted. "Your affinity for western wear certainly hasn't been soured by the plague."

    Raylan put his hat on to make a point, and stepped back to give Boyd room to put his jeans on. "You know, since you packed light- I think we got some spare clothes. Couple of sweaters at least."

    Boyd hesitated, then glanced at him sideways, a vulnerability to his face that Raylan doubted either of them were comfortable with. "Thank you."

    "Yeah," Raylan managed. 

    "So how many mothballs should I be expecting in this aging abode?" Boyd asked, running his fingers through his hair as he finished with a button. 

    "You know, the rooms are actually pretty nice. Helps Jiya is disgusted enough with Kentucky that all the sheets have been shaken out."

    "Who's this Jiya person?" He said 'Jiya' in that thick-slurring Kentucky way, Jee-yuh. For some fucking reason it gave Raylan a wave of nostalgia. Boyd was the first pure Kentucky he'd had in a while.

    "Friend of mine."

    "Ex-lover?"

    Raylan fought a smile. It built bad habits, finding Boyd charming. But wasn't anyone inside state lines who didn't. "Not this time, no."

    "Didn't know there were ladies in Kentucky you'd left untouched. 'Cept maybe some ladies who are a lot more fond of other ladies." Boyd leaned up between Raylan and the door. "You leave a stone unturned?"

    Raylan resisted the urge to take a step back out of evolutionary instinct alone. "I'm satisfied you ain't about to go foaming at the mouth on us tonight. I'll introduce you over breakfast. Make some pancakes."

    "See, that ain't funny. I would kill for a Goddamn pancake."

    "I know you've killed for less," Raylan told him, reaching past him for the doorknob.

    Boyd stepped aside. "That's what you never understood about me, Raylan. I ain't ever put a bullet in a man I didn't have to. Can you say the same?"

-


	2. 6:30 p.m./80 days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raylan and Boyd have a conversation. With booze.

6:30 p.m.

80 days

 

    "Did you have to tell Jiya and Weston?"

    Rachel handed him the dish cloth. "They had a right to know."

    "I don't disagree," Raylan admitted, taking it fairly reluctantly. "I just think maybe you're still a little sore over Boyd's past."

    "And you ain't?" 

    She was giving him that mothering look, like she was onto him for some misdemeanor or another, so Raylan stopped looking at her and dried off a fork instead. "I don't know what I am, Rachel. Just... let's agree, mutually, not to stir the pot if we don't need to? That seem fair?"

    Rachel scoffed. She left him at the sink for the pantry and got out a pencil from the drawer next to it to take down their inventory. "It does, but you're gonna stick to it like oil on water."

    "Which is to say, not at all."

    "Mhm."

    "Now what makes you think that?"

    Rachel shot him another look over her shoulder. "How long we known each other? Tell you what. You go a week without egging Boyd into a fight and I'll dry every dish we eat off of for the rest of our sad lives."

    "Got yourself a deal," Raylan told her, but he figured he probably wouldn't bet on himself. He had trouble where Boyd was concerned. Always had. "What do you get if you win?"

    "The satisfaction of bringing you shame."

    "I interrupting anything?"

    They both looked to the doorway, to Boyd's thin frame in jeans and a sweater that didn't quite fit right. It was too big on him, but a little short in the sleeves. "Not in particular," Raylan replied, "but I gotta ask, how long are your arms?"

    "The question in reality, Raylan, is why your arms are so short."

    "If this is gonna be some kind of pissing contest, please wait until I'm done here," Rachel interrupted. "It's way less interesting to listen to than you two might think."

    "Wouldn't dream of subjecting you to such discourtesy, Miss Rachel," Boyd replied, smiling from ear to ear. "I was just coming to chat. But I'll catch Raylan here a little later."

    Raylan figured he could ask Boyd what he wanted now, or he could ask him with a glass of booze in his hand, and one option sure as shit sounded better than the other. "Tell you what. Rach, you mind finding him some moonshine? Then I can meet you out back in five, Boyd."

    "Moonshine?" Boyd looked like he'd just lucked into a million dollars he didn't have to split a cent of. "Now there's something I can help with."

    Rachel moved a few cans aside and picked up a jar, reaching out to hand it to Boyd. Raylan noted that she was careful not to brush his hand, like he had a cold and she was afraid of germs. "Oh, there's plenty of booze to go around. Little food but plenty of booze."

    "A real Harlan supper." Boyd took the lid off the jar and a sip of the booze, then raised it to Raylan. "I will see you later, my friend."

    "What?" Raylan asked, once Boyd had left the room.

    "Hmm?"

    "What."

    Rachel turned her face enough that Raylan just knew she was laughing at him. "I just find it interesting, is all."

    Raylan considered stabbing himself with a butter knife, but he put down the dish cloth instead. "I know you're gonna tell me why, so just get it over with."

    "Y'all friends now? You gonna go shopping?"

    "Mm."

    "You gonna go camping together maybe?"

    "You done?"

    Rachel was giggling too hard to get her next comment out. Raylan picked the dish cloth back up and threw it at her. She caught it with one hand and laughed him out of the room, though Raylan did pause to flip her off. 

    Boyd was watching the sunset when Raylan got out there, jar beside him and hair messier than usual from the wind. It was a rough enough wind that Raylan might have thought a tornado was coming were the clouds any worse. Boyd glanced up as Raylan settled down beside him on the step, then nudged the jar closer to him. "It ain't bad, in fact. Certainly beats the shit your daddy used to keep around."

    "Can't argue that." Raylan picked up the jar, took a sip, put it down again. "So what's on your mind?"

    "I was wondering if perhaps you might elaborate upon our situation here. Seeing as you've lost something like eight of your crew, I feel as though I ought to know what's coming for me now that I'm associating with you."

    "Ain't that funny," Raylan mused. "You being worried about associating with me."

    Boyd took the jar and drank for a few moments, then smiled and said, "You think my associating with you made me popular with my community?"

    "Of degenerates?"

    "Of those whom tended towards distrusting the law."

    Raylan eyed him. "Degenerates."

    Boyd looked unfazed. He put the jar down on Raylan's knee, a strange and almost-possessive motion that left Raylan unsure of how to respond to it. "Are you planning on elaboratin' or not?"

    It was a fair question. Raylan hadn't finished deciding how much to share with Boyd about all this. He was a Crowder after all, regardless of whether laws and morality itself had changed. He took a moment for himself, staring out over the dead trees and muddy ground, then said, "There were twelve of us. Everything was going fine, but folks were getting restless. Twelfth person who joined us started stirring shit up, so I told him to knock it off. He didn't take too kindly to that."

    "Always the lawman."

    "Yeah, well. Came to be that about half of us figured we oughta stay in Lexington for now, while there were still resources to use, and keep to ourselves. Other half felt we oughta take from others. Came to be a fairly large schism. Then someone went and got themselves infected. Lost two people in as many days. Guy who'd been starting shit blamed it on me for wanting to stick around, 'cause it was his sister who died, so six of them split off from us. Can't see why you'd need to watch your back, seeing as you weren't even involved, but if you're real worried I think there's a baseball bat around here somewhere you're welcome to."

    Boyd hummed a little in response, taking the jar off his knee and holding it between both hands. "It ain't your fault those two people died."

    "Never said it was."

    "Jiya you knew from before?"

    Raylan took the jar from him, now that it was off his knee. "Yeah."

    Boyd stared at him, waiting for him to say more. When he didn't, he pressed, "Yeah?"

    "She uh," he paused, swirling the pale alcohol around in the glass. "She was a small-time weed dealer."

    "Oh but when I deal-"

    "Don't start."

    Boyd snatched the jar back again but let it go. Instead he said, "Sounds like my kind of woman."

    "I'm sure y'all'll get along just fine." Considering Rachel had gone ahead and told her about Boyd's prison past, Raylan didn't really mean it. Jiya and Weston had good enough reason to not trust the group's new ex-white supremacist. Wasn't like Rachel and himself were giving Boyd such glowing reviews either.

    "And your other black friend, name starts with a W-?"

    "Weston," Raylan confirmed. "We ran into him on the outskirts of town. Used to be in finance. Hey, you two got something in common. Banks."

    "I forgot just how excellent your sense of comedic timing was, Raylan."

    "I'm a funny man."

    "Funny-lookin'."

    "Real grown-up of you."

    Boyd leaned back on his hands and grinned up at the sky. "That was your favorite insult when we was kids."

    Raylan took another sip of moonshine instead of replying, feeling it burn its way down his throat. He figured this bet with Rachel might not be so hard-fought after all. Maybe the downfall of civilization had made Boyd a little easier to get along with. "You were always a lot more eloquent when you decided to insult someone."

    "Ain't nothin' more satisfying than watching an asshole go red in the face tryna figure out what you just called him."

    "Yeah, you ain't wrong about that."

    They sat out there for another few minutes, until the comfort and familiarity of it all started to bother Raylan enough to convince him to go inside. He nudged him with his foot as he got up, jar in hand. "Oughta head in, 'fore it gets dark."

    "I'll be in. And Raylan?"

    He paused to look at him, and raised an eyebrow. Boyd said, in that dead-serious way of his, "I missed you."

    "Don't forget to lock the back door," Raylan reminded him, and went inside.

-


	3. 8:00 p.m./82 days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raylan struggles to hold his tongue, and receives a message.

8:00 p.m.

82 days

   

    "Why do you think the South moved from plantation courts to penitentiaries? Once they had to free us, they had to rebuild their economy and they didn't know how to do that without profiting off black people. You think Reagan gave a solitary fuck about drugs? Prison populations started literally _multiplying_ the second the law pretended they gave any real fuck about drugs. And then they got the nerve to turn around and say there's so many of us in prison because we're uncivilized." Weston lay his cards out in front of the candle. "King-high straight by the way, motherfucker."

    "No shame in losing to the best," Boyd quipped, tossing his cards in and watching Weston swipe up his money. "And I agree with you. The law's hand in the disenfranchisement of the poor, the black, the Latino, etcetera, is the most profitable scam the government's orchestrated since our very democracy was first established."

    Raylan took the cards and split the deck. He threaded the top two cards together and pushed at the apex until the cards rattled down together. "Yeah? You been real disenfranchised by the law, Boyd?"

    Boyd watched him shuffle, tapping his fingers against the living room table and looking at Raylan fairly pensively. "Well I do feel I have been, yes, Raylan."

    "You mean 'cause we cracked down on lowlife fugitives of the law? Forgive me for lacking sympathy for you." Raylan dealt a couple of cards out and gestured towards Weston. "Weston's got something to say. You're just pissed that had the world not gone to shit I would'a finally been able to haul your ass in, and you know it."

    Boyd picked his cards up without looking to see what they were. His shark-gaze fixed Raylan over the tops of them. "And my growing up poor with a drug-peddling wife-and-kids-beating daddy had nothing to do with it?"

    "I grew up with a drug-peddling abusive asshole of a father too, and I did something worthwhile with my life."

    "Is that how you view it?"

    "Mhm."

    "From where I'm sitting, seems what you did with your life was acquire yourself a job where you got to work out your frustrations on others without doing time for it And mind you, most think there's more to life than work and yet I don't seem to recall you having a whole ton of strong relationships."

    Boyd wasn't wrong on that point, which pissed Raylan off even more. He opened his mouth to say whatever thought made it out first, but then he caught Rachel watching instead of studying her cards and paused. He wondered if it would be more satisfying to snap back at Boyd right now, or tough it out for a week and prove to Rachel that he could keep the peace. He figured if his cards were good, he'd take it as a sign to shut up now and rehash the argument next week after Rachel had to start drying all the dishes.

    A pair of Kings. He took a breath, worked his jaw, and managed, "I suppose we got two different ways of looking at things."

    Boyd looked truly shocked that Raylan hadn't taken the opportunity to fight him on his point, but he recovered enough to go for smug instead. It fit more familiarly on his face. "How very diplomatic. And I'll bet five."

    Raylan lost the hand to him. Seemed like a bad fucking omen.

    "Play a lot of poker?" Jiya asked him.

    "Yeah, laugh it up." He watched Boyd collect his chips and slowly gathered the cards. "Told Boyd the two of you'd get along."

    "It's not so much pro-Boyd as it is anti-you." Jiya grinned at him, taking the first card he dealt her way. "At least deal yourself some good cards for the sake of your God."

    "Oh, Raylan ain't very faithful," Boyd commented.

    "She's got a point though," Rachel added, looking pleased.

    Raylan sighed. "That's 'cause she's spending too much time with you. You always pick on me."

    "Now who's ever so disenfranchised?" Rachel retorted. She threw some chips in. "In or out, West?"

    "I'm out. I'm gonna give it a couple rounds, 'til Raylan's done sulking. I hate trying to bet against folks tilting."

    "Yeah, alright," Raylan muttered.

    They eventually got off the subject of giving him a hard time and on to other things. Rachel pondered aloud the social intricacies of being a black woman in law enforcement versus the comparative clean slate of the new world. Jiya talked a while about her mother, how much she'd loved to cook and how if she was still alive out there she was probably most upset about not being able to send them food. That got Boyd got onto the subject of mothers and cooking and he waxed poetic about his mama's fried chicken for a while, which Raylan did dearly miss as well. "You know," he pointed out, "you used to know how to make that."

    Boyd tilted his head in acknowledgement, flipped his cards over, and agreed, "The day you can procure me some chicken that don't come out of a can, I'll be more than glad to cook you some."

    "I'ma hold you to that," Raylan told him.

    Boyd shot him a bit of a smile, which put Raylan at ease that at least for the time being they weren't on the verge of another argument. "Alright, Raylan."

    "We have to stop talking about chicken. You're making me hungry," Jiya complained. 

    "Apologies." Boyd rattled some chips in the palm of his hand. "Raylan here told me, by the way, that you used to be involved in pain management. What are the odds you happen to still be carrying with you your pharmaceutical supplies?"

    Jiya tilted her head back and laughed. Her wavy black hair spilled out over the back of her chair, eyes creasing at the corners. "Unfortunately, today is not your lucky day."

    "You know, you are at a table with two deputies," Raylan pointed out, trying to stare Boyd down via candlelight. He wondered if the flickering flame made him look more or less menacing.

    That just made Boyd laugh along with Jiya. "You gon' arrest me, cowboy?"

    Rachel put her head against her hand but Raylan soldiered on. Just because things had gone to shit didn't mean they had to give up all societal norms. "No, but for all your talk of morality and code of conduct you think you'd have a little more respect for our different standings."

    "Different standings?" Boyd leaned back in his seat, folding his arms loosely over his sweater. "Son, the playing field been leveled about as flat as it can get. 'I'm motivated by creating a level playing field for the world so that the weak have a chance.' Those are the words of Iqbal Quadir, Bengali entrepreneur and activist for the poor. I don't consider myself weak, but in the eyes of the law I was most certainly on the losing team. Now, Raylan, there is no law 'cept for the social laws we impose upon one another. So I guess my question is, are you ready to impose upon me what you consider the natural order in order to perceive me as weaker than you, or are you prepared to make peace with the fact that your dogma has lost its meaning?"

    There was a tense moment wherein Raylan could feel everyone's eyes on him in the silence. He didn't want to get into a bet-losing argument over this, but he also had no intention of letting Boyd think that him laying down and accepting defeat was how all future arguments were going to go. Earning Boyd's respect was not always an easy feat. He didn't need his respect, but it was apt to make shit easier. He took a sip of his drink to buy himself a few seconds, then replied, "I don't intend on imposing anything on you so long as your own personal dogma don't include causing fuckin' problems. 'Cause you know that if I have to, I will."

    Boyd leaned forwards again and put his elbows on the table. "That so, Raylan?"

    "Sure is, Boyd."

    Boyd began to smile again and Rachel tossed a chip fairly forcefully to the middle of the table. "You two got other plans or can we play the game?"

-

    Like all peace, it didn't last. But for a couple of blessed days everyone got along, there was no immediate need to panic over rations, and no one bitched too hard about the moonshine. To Raylan's surprise, even Boyd's past hadn't seemed to piss anyone off too badly, at least not outwardly. Boyd had found a book in one of the dressers so he was absorbed enough to take the debating down to a minimum, and it was even more surprising how easily he seemed to fit into their dynamic. He always had been good at social situations, but Raylan hadn't seen much of that for decades. Since he'd come back to Kentucky, he usually only saw Boyd interact with criminals or on worse days with LEOs. Here- so far at least- he didn't seem to have much of an agenda.

    Raylan had to remind himself far too often that Boyd was not a trustworthy person. Fortunately that didn't matter for now. He was one more person to help with upkeep and remembering to keep doors locked and keeping lookout and heating cans of food over candles. He was supposed to be on lookout when he showed up inside instead, surprising Raylan into mild annoyance.

    "Aren't you keeping an eye out?" Raylan asked him when he rounded the corner, folding a corner of the page he was on in his own book. "You got like, two hours left."

    "Looking for you," Boyd informed him. He stopped in the doorway, hands in his pockets. "Someone's come up on us. Wants to speak to you."

    "What about?"

    "Well, if he wanted to speak to me about it, I wouldn't be here would I?"

    Raylan got up and kicked his chair in, frowning at Boyd. "Alright, asshole. I'm coming."

    "I'm the asshole, playing secretary for you."

    He'd cleaned and loaded his gun just hours before, and it comforted him when he lay his hand on the butt of it, cozied up at his hip. He found it interesting that Boyd hadn't asked for a better weapon than a bat yet. Despite that, he figured the conversation inevitable, and made a mental note to talk to Rachel about it ahead of time. "This guy say who he was?"

    "I asked, but he told me to go on and get fucked. I'd have taken a swing at him but I don't know if this is the way you choose to conduct your business."

    Raylan rolled his eyes and pushed the door open, holding it for him. Boyd followed him outside, pulling his collar up when the wind hit them. Raylan recognized the visitor immediately. "Jacob."

    "Givens."

    Boyd stepped aside and swept his hand. "Enjoy your meeting. I'll be at my post. _Boss_."

    Raylan nodded, choosing to ignore the snark in Boyd's voice. To Jacob he said, "I didn't expect to see you in these parts anytime soon. You all made a pretty big show of leaving."

    Jacob, blond hair pulled back in a tight knot, stood a good ten feet from him and didn't come any closer. He was agitating on the spot, and Raylan wondered how long he'd been walking. He looked wired. Maybe coke, meth. "I'm here to bring you a message."

    "Are you now?" Raylan pulled his jacket aside just enough for Jacob to see his gun, a move he'd made many a time before and rarely found ineffective. "Let's hear it, then."

    "You 'member that time you shot that rabid before he got a bite out of me? I told you I owed you one. This is that one." He looked to Boyd, and seemed to decide he was far enough away. "Crowe split with us about a week ago. He's with a different group now, close to us in the hills. A bunch of _real_ freaks."

    Raylan ran his tongue over his teeth. "And?"

    "He still wants you dead. Last I heard he's mobilized his little army to come up this way for y'all."

    "Crowe don't exactly strike the fear of God in me."

    Jacob's eyes were big and serious, pupils blown. He took a step forward. "The group he's with are no joke. I don't doubt you could out-shoot any of them, but you're real outnumbered. Look- you wanna stick around here and wait for them to come find you, that's your business. But if anyone's got the resolve to keep coming for you until everyone's dead, it's Crowe." He looked around again, and Raylan wondered just how paranoid he was. "We're even now, you'n me."

    Raylan breathed out slowly, tilting his head back to look at the sky. Storm clouds were coming in again. "You wanna stay, have a drink?"

    "No. I have a car. I'm going. I just wanted to tell you. Crowe's not gonna come for you without being prepared. And he's going to come for you."

    "We're even," he agreed.

    Jacob nodded, still agitating. His eyes were big and wild. He gave Raylan one last look, and just like that he was gone again. It left Raylan uneasy. Visitors were such a rarity these days that it seemed almost anti-climatic. 

    Boyd was comfortable on the porch when Raylan walked up onto it. He leaned a shoulder against the column for a second. "You wanna know what that was about?"

    "I do," Boyd said slowly, "but I ain't gonna beg."

    "Come on inside," Raylan told him, nodding towards the door. "We'll have a good ol' family meeting."

-


	4. 2:28 p.m./84 days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Negotiations break down, someone wins the bet, and everything effectively goes to shit.

2:28 p.m.

84 days

 

    "Daryl Crowe Jr.? Did you have it on your mind to tell me at any point?"

    They were all waiting on Jiya to come down any second. Boyd, it seemed, was running out of patience. Raylan felt tense enough as it was considering the possibility of a shoot-out, and fighting over Daryl Crowe wasn't about to help. He tilted his hat back, shrugged, put his boots up on the table. He ignored the irritated look Rachel shot him. "I didn't suppose it was information you needed."

    Boyd inhaled with a certain degree of familiar righteous fury. "Oh, yes, Raylan. Why would I need to know that the person you butted heads with, who might seek revenge at any moment, was someone who wanted me drawn and quartered?"

    "You think anyone's able to keep track of every person you're feuding with?" Raylan snapped. Damn this stupid bet with Rachel. "It ain't your business."

    "Don't you tell me what my business is, Raylan Givens. I ought-"

    Rachel held up a hand. "Is there any chance you can wait until after we sort out what we're doing here? You can fight each other any time but I'd like to get this business figured out first. And Raylan, get your damn feet off the table."

    Boyd gritted his teeth, eyes still fixed on Raylan's. "Everyone sure I should be here, or you need a moment to decide if this _is_ my business?"

    "You haven't even been here a week and you think you oughta be entitled to every last detail?" Raylan was starting to get a migraine. He left his boots on the table to spite Rachel, jiggling one foot impatiently. 

    He was spared Boyd's response by Jiya entering the room and taking a seat between Rachel and Weston. She folded her hands on the table, then unfolded them to pull the map closer to her, shooting a horrified look at the soles of his boots. "Weston caught me up already. Where do we go now?"

    "Nowhere," Raylan said immediately, while Weston said, "If it were up to me, Canada."

    "The hell we are. We can't up and move." But from the looks around the table, Raylan was already fucked on winning this argument. There were few things that drove him as crazy as sitting down to argue on something he knew he was going to be overruled on.

    "Of course we can," Jiya replied, trailing a finger down the highway she was staring at. "We obviously cannot stay here."

    "Here is close to a water source. There's a reason we haven't moved." Raylan was starting to feel like he was the only person left with any reason. "Every road out of here is a fucking disaster area."

    "Do we know whereabouts Crowe and his group are?" Boyd asked of Rachel, which seemed pointed.

    Rachel glanced at Jiya's map, tapping it near to Weston. "Jacob implied they're up in the hills."

    "Anyone hearing me?" Raylan muttered.

    Weston clapped him on the shoulder. "We're hearing you. But unless you have an AK-47 I don't know about, I'm with Jiya on this. And we should move fast. Who knows how many vehicles they got? They might not need to walk our way."

    "Can we at least vote on it?" He wasn't about to voice it, but Raylan almost wanted to wait for Daryl Crowe to show up. He owed him a bullet or two. "Anyone voting with me?"

    He raised his hand, but he was alone. Rachel shrugged sympathetically. "Sorry, Raylan."

    Boyd spoke up again abruptly, reaching out and dragging the map back to the middle of the table. He took Rachel's glass and placed it over a spot near the Virginia border. "If I may make a suggestion?"

    "Go ahead," Jiya allowed, and Rachel nodded. 

    Boyd drew a line with his finger down the map, snaking over the mountains and towards the glass. "We _could_ go through the mountains."

    "Were you listening?" Raylan asked, slapping a hand down on the table. "What's the point in fucking leaving if we go straight to them."

    "For all we know, they've already left," Boyd replied calmly, looking at Weston, then Jiya, then the map again. "They're expecting us _here_ , not in their territory. I know the mountains better than anyone I ever met, and if we make it up and over them mountains, there's a community on the other side."

    What a bunch of shit. "A community, huh? Tell us all about it."

    Boyd shot him a pissy look but went back to the map. "I've heard about it with my own ears, from some folks I ran into before. A small area- Meadows of Dan. It's not all that advanced, but it's a friendly commune and they have a wall running around the entire town with snipers posted. You gotta approach with your hands up, but-"

    "This is fucking stupid," Raylan interrupted. He couldn't hold his tongue any longer. "You think I'm going back through Harlan County of all the Goddamn places on Earth so we can find some imaginary place on your word? We go anywhere, we go north, up to the Great Lakes."

    "I-" Rachel began, but Boyd cut her off. She sighed in frustration and tossed her pencil along the table.

    "If you think the Great Lakes were populated before, it is nothing compared to now," Boyd said, leaning in and talking faster now. "It is a guaranteed source of food and water and there'll be so many camps posted there that we'll be shot before we ever see a glimpse of our reflections on the water."

    Raylan threw his hands up. "Your whole reason for wanting to go to the fucking- Meadows of Dave or whatever the fuck- is that it's a community! How is that any different?"

    "It's too populated, Raylan! A shitload of folk competing over resources is a different situation than a community holed up under no active threat. You have no idea what we'd be up against."

    "And you do?" He swung his feet off the table and stood up, too worked up to stay sitting. He took his hat off for good measure, throwing it down on the table. It just figured Boyd would show up and make a mess of shit like this. Four days and he was already trying to play leader. Or preacher, or whatever role Boyd was fond of these days. "Since when do you know all this shit anyway? What else you keeping?"

    "Would you listen for five Goddamn seconds without going off on another tangent?" Boyd shot back, eyes finally beginning to narrow dangerously.

    Jiya stood as well, hands on the table. "Enough. The rest of us don't care to hear your bickering. Rachel, what do you think?"

    Rachel started to talk, but Raylan's mind was too busy racing to listen. Thoughts had begun to fit together in his mind like puzzle pieces, and the more he thought about this set of circumstances they'd found themselves in, the angrier he got. A theory hit him fast and he was too riled up to stop himself from voicing it immediately. He wasn't even sure he wanted to. "This is your plan, isn't it?"

    Boyd looked away from Rachel to him. "Pardon me?"

    "No, no, no- your weird insistence on heading to Virginia- all this shit, you've always had contacts in them hills. How much did Crowe pay you?"

    "Pardon _me_?" Boyd hissed. He stood slowly, leaving Rachel and Weston the only two who remained seated. 

    Raylan pointed at him, other hand on his hip, talking as soon as the thoughts lined up. "Little convenient, huh. You show up, a couple days later Jacob just happens to tell us Crowe's on his way- you wanna lead us through fuckin' Harlan, through the mountains, get us so Goddamn lost that Crowe can put a bullet in my head before I can even sort out where the hell we are. What'd he pay you, huh?"

    Boyd opened his mouth, then closed it. He picked his drinking glass up like he was thinking of throwing it at Raylan's head, then replied, "Name one single, _sol-i-tary_ time, that I have ever done something with the intention of getting you killed."

    "Don't start with that shit," Raylan said, because he couldn't think of one and wasn't going to say as much. Then again: "Hey- how about the time I shot you because you were trying to pull on me?"

    "Idiot," Boyd sighed. "You really think I was about to shoot you?"

    "What does that even mean-"

    "It means that you oughta swallow your Goddamn pride, Raylan Givens, and listen to what I'm saying. My greatest sin here is suggesting a place that's a far cry safer than the lakes, and here you are acting like I shot the tires out on your truck."

    "My pride?" Raylan demanded. He thought about kicking him. "You're only pissed off because you don't got a cult or a gang hanging off your every word anymore, and these folks here are too wise to your bullshit to follow you now."

    "I'm with Raylan," Weston interrupted. "The Great Lakes are at least a stable source of water. There might be areas that aren't as populated too, we won't know unless we check it out. But we need to leave like, now."

    Raylan patted him on the shoulder and turned to thank him, but Jiya cut him off. "I must say, I think Boyd makes a lot of sense. The mountains keep people in and out. An outpost that close to them could be easy to protect, and a community could be a good break for us from scavenging on our own. We don't have to stay long, just long enough to recoup our losses."

    "Rachel?" Raylan prompted. "You're the tie-breaker."

    Rachel crossed her arms. "You're interested in my opinion now?"

    That didn't matter, because Weston wasn't listening. "We don't need to break a tie. Crowder doesn't get a vote."

    Boyd's attention snapped to him. "And why is that?"

    "You just got here, Raylan's right." Weston joined the rest of them in standing. "And more importantly, I don't take life advice from white supremacist shitheads."

    "Well, ain't that diplomatic." Boyd looked furious. He rolled his sleeve up, but couldn't get it past his elbow. "The- wretched tattoo that I carved out of my skin has no bearing on my ability to navigate the fucking Appalachians, or determine when Raylan Givens is talking out his ass!"

    "You can cut yourself like the self-hating bastard you are all you want, but it don't change that you're the same Harlan trash you always were," Raylan said.

    Boyd flinched like his arm wanted to act of its own accord. He slammed his glass down instead and pointed a finger at Raylan. His eyes were wide and his face flushed. "You can go to hell. Someone let me know when we're leaving, because if I stand here any longer I am liable to punch you in your holier-than-thou shit-talkin' self-righteous pig-headed judgmental face."

    Boyd left the room, just like that. Raylan stood there, then looked at Rachel. "You ever seen him back down from a fight?"

    "I am _not_ your friend right now," Rachel warned him. "And by the way, you just lost that damn bet."

    Raylan stared at her with total exasperation for a second, then shook his head. This shit was just exhausting. "I'm gonna see what he's up to in case he decides to make off with our shit. But I'm telling you right now- I'm right about this."

    Rachel didn't respond, but Raylan didn't wait around to see if she would. He was still mad, and he wasn't finished with this fight. He'd lost the bet anyhow, so now he could yell at Boyd all he wanted. And boy did he want to. He stomped down the hall and shoved the door to Boyd's room open, catching him with a bag of pills in his hand- the same pills Raylan had taken off him the night Boyd had broken in. "Are you kidding me?" he exclaimed, incredulous that even Boyd would be so reckless.

    "Raylan, get out of-"

    "Not enough you're a jackass but you're seriously trying to steal the same fucking pills?" Raylan approached him, ready to yank them away and wondering if they were going to come to blows over this. He kind of felt like he could go for a fight. "I never took you for plain old stupid. You're a Goddamn disappointment, trying to peddle this shit even when the world's like this."

    Boyd swatted his hand away and took a step back and three pills from the bag. "They're for me, asshole."

    Raylan squinted, trying to think. "You're addicted to this shit?"

    "Oh, please share your counselling feelings with me," Boyd replied, scoffing at him and swallowing the handful of pills. "The day you care is the day pigs fly."

    Raylan found himself angry for a whole new set of reasons. He reached out and snatched the bag from him, tossing it full across the room. Boyd was surprised enough that it knocked him off his game, and Raylan grabbed a fistful of his shirt and shoved him back until he hit the dresser. "You get fucking stoned out of your mind and then try to argue with me over life and death shit?"

    "At least I'm not a borderline alcoholic," Boyd snarled. "Just like your daddy, ain't'chu?"

    "Oh, fuck you."

    "Fuck you. Accusing me of trying to lure you to your death. It ever occur to you that you're the only one here with a fucking problem? I don't hate you, Raylan! I have never hated you for a second, but you sure as shit are making me hate you now."

    Raylan got in his face, fist still in his shirt. It pissed him off even more that Boyd didn't look the least bit scared of him. "The day I take a junkie degenerate at their word's the day I'll end up dead for it. And I don't give two fucks if you hate me. Contrary to popular opinion, I don't spend all my time thinking about whether or not you fucking like me, Boyd. I couldn't fucking care less, and I ain't about to-"

    Boyd grabbed his head with both hands, and while Raylan was still talking, pulled him close the last couple of inches and kissed him full on the mouth. It was such a shock that Raylan stood completely frozen for a second, knuckles turning white in Boyd's top. He pulled back once his brain processed what was happening, jerking his head away from Boyd's and gaping uselessly. "You can't just- who just- I am mad at you!"

    Boyd was breathing heavy, face more flushed than ever, and he grabbed Raylan by the wrist and shoved his hand away from his chest. "Shut up."

    "Who-"

    No sooner had he started trying to figure out another sentence than Boyd grabbed him by the back of the neck and kissed him again, harder this time. The moment he registered Boyd's thumb behind his ear he knew he was screwed. He kissed him back before he could talk himself out of it, and Boyd threw himself at him, one arm around his neck and his other hand in his hair, grabbing tight while he bit down on his lip. Raylan distantly heard himself make an undignified noise, and he grabbed Boyd by the waist and pushed him back up against the dresser again, not caring if the knobs jabbed him in the back. Boyd clutched him closer and Raylan could hear him moaning, making these deep needy sounds like he'd wanted this for a long time, and it drove him nuts. He slipped his tongue into Boyd's mouth when he got the chance and Boyd responded with enthusiasm, kissing him again and again and shuddering when Raylan sucked good and wet on his tongue. 

    It wasn't the first time they'd ever kissed, but it was the first time in a long time and it took Raylan aback how easy it felt. He moved a hand around to Boyd's lower back and up under his shirt, palming at his bare skin and panting against his mouth, hard as nails and ready for whatever Boyd wanted. Boyd sucked and bit at his lips, flicked his tongue against Raylan's, wound his fingers through his hair, and every bit of it was hotter and better than anything Raylan had had in years. He let Boyd yank him that last inch closer, pulling away just enough to mouth wet and frantic at his jaw, grabbing at his belt and making for his neck. 

    Boyd was gasping for air, holding onto him like they were lost at sea. "Jesus Christ, Raylan-" Raylan had found his throat and started to suck, the way he used to when they were nineteen and each other's whole worlds. "Fuck, fuck, boy."

    Raylan clamped a hand over his mouth and bit harder at his neck and felt Boyd go weak in the knees. He nipped and kissed and licked the same spot while Boyd moaned, before kissing back to his mouth and tugging on Boyd's lip with his teeth. Boyd framed his face with his hands again, thumbs stroking against his stubble, and it felt good. It all felt good.

    A gunshot rang out so loud that Raylan all but fell away from him, heart jumping into his throat. He spared half a second to glance at Boyd, then took off out of the room with his gun drawn. He almost ran directly into Rachel by the time he made it to the kitchen, and she took in his appearance with surprise before telling him, "Everyone's fine. I think they're still a ways away, but we gotta go."

    "Boyd's in his room, tell him to grab essentials only. We go out the back. Jiya and Weston good?"

    "Already heading for the trees."

    "Porch in sixty seconds?"

    "You got it."

    Raylan had a go-bag already packed, and he snatched it out of his room. His heart was racing fast enough that he felt dizzy, and he knew he wasn't on his game. He needed a cold shower, but there was no time for that. Not to mention a lack of running water. Which wasn't the biggest issue on his plate right now, because- fucking _Crowes_.

-


	5. 3:34 p.m./84 days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plans are made, Raylan is made (fun of), and the first snow falls.

3:34 p.m.

84 days

 

    "How far you think we can make it before sunset?" Weston asked.

    "Not far enough," Raylan murmured. He watched Jiya glance at the map, then looked ahead through the trees at... more trees. They needed to be out of the forest before nightfall or they'd have to hunker down until the morning. The trees were thick and the crunching leaves bound to give them away. "So we're all settled on this?"

    Boyd exchanged a brief look with him, then averted his eyes. He'd backed down awful fast on the matter, and now that Raylan was no longer running on adrenaline and anger he wasn't sure if he felt so good about that. Not that it mattered, really. "We are."

    "Rach?"

    Rachel trudged ahead and didn't spare him a glance. "Thought my vote was irrelevant."

    "It ain't," Raylan told her, feeling a little guilty. Rachel was one of the few folks whose feelings did concern him. "Are you good with this?"

    She sighed and turned around, spreading her hands. "I'm not good with any of this. But, and I apologize, Boyd, if it's between you and Crowder, you know I got your back."

    "We gotta get us a truck," Boyd murmured, placing his hands in his jacket pockets and staring up at the bits of sky left through the branches. The wind pushed his hair back and Raylan looked away. "'Else we in for a long walk to The Wolverine State."

    "And how do you suppose we come across one in the middle of the woods?" Jiya asked. Her eyes flicked between them. "Unless you think if we hit the streets that Daryl Crowe won't drive us over in seconds."

    Raylan tapped his foot slow in the mud, thinking. He broke the silence and gestured at Boyd. "You 'member the odd weekend we'd get up to Lexington?"

    Boyd looked puzzled. "I do."

    "That lake with the campground with all the stupid rules. That's in these here woods."

    "Again I recall, but I still ain't sure where you're going with this."

    "A ranger came down and gave us shit, yeah? Big guy, kept pontificating at'chu. Made you so mad you went back and stole his truck later."

    A small smile made its way across Boyd's face, and Raylan's stomach flipped. "You still as much a talent with hot-wiring a vehicle as you used to be, Raylan?"

    He glanced Rachel's way and caught her eyebrows raised high. He looked up and took a deep breath. "Was a long time ago."

    "Uh-huh. I imagine a lot of things were," she said.

    Raylan frowned at her. She stared back, unreadable. He wondered if she knew what they'd done when he'd followed after Boyd. He tried to remember if he'd still had a hard-on when he came across her. If he was lucky maybe she'd just think he got off on fighting. 

    "Maybe if we're lucky the ranger station'll have a couple of guns there too," Weston suggested.

    Boyd took his hands from his pockets and spread his arms wide. "That sure would make this a lucky day."

-

    "I know it ain't no Glock, but I still feel like we been pretty lucky," Boyd said, slipping into the back seat of the truck. He used a nail to open the wrapper on one of the granola bars they'd found. "How you feel about knowing your partner used to be a lowlife like myself, Miss Brooks?"

    "Call me that instead of Deputy or Rachel one more time and-"

    "I 'pologize, no need for threats."

    Raylan started the engine and shut the driver's side door. "Y'all fightin'?"

    "No," Rachel informed him from the passenger seat. "Just trying to get him to knock off the  _Miss Brooks_  nonsense."

    "Good luck," Raylan remarked, starting along the narrow path through the woods. "He always been set in his ways. You three comfortable back there?"

    Jiya hummed distractedly, making notes on her map with a red pen. Weston sat on her other side, and Raylan was glad she was separating him and Boyd considering things. He didn't think either of them was about to jump to wrestling, but it was better to be safe than sorry where Boyd was concerned. 

    Which Raylan so far had not been. He glanced at Boyd in the rear-view mirror as he drove, catching him watching him just the same. They had a good five hours of driving at the bare minimum, which was a good five hours where Boyd couldn't try to talk to him about what had happened. And a good five hours where Raylan couldn't sleep off whatever the fuck was wrong with him that had had him kissing Boyd back with such Goddamn enthusiasm. 

    Just the thought of all that had him shift in his seat, and he focused ahead on the road, pissed at himself. There was no way in hell he was getting any kind of involved with Boyd. He'd just been so damn angry and the release of intending to fuck him had helped some of that. That was all. 

    Lord almighty, would they have fucked?

    Fortunately enough, everyone settled into a nice silence as he drove. Jiya was still busy plotting whatever plans she liked to make. Weston had earbuds in attached to some battery-operated music-machine Raylan had no taste for. Rachel seemed in her own world, staring out the window. But of course Boyd had to ruin that by talking, leaning in once Raylan had rolled the window down and filled the truck with the covering sounds of wind and leaves. "We oughta talk, next chance."

    "Won't be doin' that," Raylan muttered back. 

    "Oh, I think we will."

    "I think we won't."

    Boyd set his chin on the shoulder of Raylan's seat. "Now when have you ever been right about that?"

    "I meant to ask before- how long have you been a couple?" Jiya asked abruptly.

    Rachel let out a hyena-like sound that she didn't even slightly try to disguise, and Raylan almost drove them right off the road. Boyd leaned back in his seat oh-so-casual, like she'd asked something that hadn't made Raylan spontaneously develop nine ulcers. "We aren't a fuckin'- why would you even  _ask_  that?"

    Jiya blinked at him like she didn't see the problem. "I had just assumed. You have some sort of past, yes?"

    "That we do," Boyd said, prompting Raylan to tell him to shut the fuck up.

    Rachel turned in her seat, leaning her elbow on the top of it and grinning. "They dug coal together."

    "Is that a euphemism?" 

    Raylan gritted his teeth. "It is not."

    "Well-" Boyd started.

    "It  _is not_ ," Raylan repeated.

    "He's sensitive," Rachel assured Jiya, patting her knee. "Better drop it."

    "My apologies."

    "No need to apologize, Miss-" Boyd paused, and patted Jiya as well. "No need to apologize,  _Jiya_. He'll survive. He's only so offended because he likes to think he only dates this year's Miss America."

    Weston took his earbuds out. "Am I missing anything important?"

    "No," Raylan assured him quickly. "You are not." 

    "Kinda seems like I am, but alright." He fidgeted with his earbuds, tossing them in his palm, then leaned forward to see past Jiya. "Crowder?"

    If Boyd was nervous about what Weston had to say, he didn't show it. "Mm?"

    "I uh, I'm sorry. There was no call for me to be a dick earlier."

    Well, that one was a shocker. Maybe Boyd was having a lucky day after all, but Raylan sure as shit wasn't. Boyd bowed his head slightly, folding his hands between his knees. After a moment he said, "Well, while I do appreciate the gesture, it's an unnecessary one. I could make excuses about having been incarcerated and scared for my life, but- in the words of Mister Benjamin Franklin-  _'He that is good for making excuses is seldom good for anything else'_. While perhaps I should not be allowed to feel so dissociated from my former self, nonetheless that man made a string of decisions that I now live with, and you owe him no apology."

    Weston said, "Huh."

    After a moment, he leaned over further and offered Boyd a hand, which Boyd shook. Raylan looked to Rachel in the hopes of some sympathy, but she was apparently still pissed at him over interrupting her so much. Or she felt Boyd had sounded sincere enough. Either way, she didn't meet his gaze.

    "You know I don't mean to be a dick," he offered her eventually. "I care what you think."

    Rachel scoffed. "Do you?"

    He couldn't help wincing. He turned along the winding road and caught sight of her from the corner of his eye. "I do. I just get sorta... single-focused. I'm sorry."

    She gave him a reluctant smile and elbowed him gently. "Alright. Don't go crying."

    He offered her his hat, his usual trade for forgiveness, and she wore it as they continued on their way north. It wasn't long before his head started to get cold, and he rolled the window back up. Fall had been unusually harsh in Lexington, but the rest of the country didn't seem to have fared any better. By the time they caught the 75 into Cincinnati the first few snowflakes were hitting the dashboard, and Raylan's stomach churned at the thought of how truly unprepared for winter weather they were. At least they didn't seem to be being followed now, which was something. He drummed his fingers along the steering wheel and prompted, "Jiya?"

    "Mhm?"

    "What do you think- go through the heart of town and risk the population being outta control, or go around and risk a barricade or set-up?"

    "Where do we want to end up?"

    Raylan didn't know. "Rachel?"

    "I used to have family in Grand Rapids," she replied. "Medium-sized city. I don't know, it's not too far from woods or water. Might be a place to start at least."

    That sounded reasonable enough to Raylan. "Anyone object?"

    "So long as it ain't Detroit," Boyd declared, kicking the back of Raylan's seat once. "I ain't goin' back to Detroit."

    "Detroit would eat you alive," Weston commented.

    "I am well aware that it is a less than hospitable underworld."

    "No one's going to Detroit," Raylan interrupted before Boyd could derail the whole conversation. "Drop Detroit."

    "Point being, if we're aiming to end up in a city, we might as well go through here and get an idea of what to expect," Jiya decided. 

    "Can do."

    The city was calm, quiet, desolate. It wasn't snowing anywhere close to hard enough for it to blanket the streets, but Raylan wondered what it would be like further north when winter settled in. There certainly wouldn't be anyone out shoveling snow. But the little snow that was falling was comforting in a way, a sign of change in a stagnant city.

    The comfort didn't last.

-


	6. 10:40 p.m./84 days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michigan is not particularly welcoming.

10:40 p.m.

84 days

   

    Where Cincinnati's snowfall had been a dusting, Michigan's was an absolute fucking unloading. They gave up the truck as close to town as they could get it, unloading their bags and checking their guns. Boyd still hadn't started to really complain about being unarmed, but Raylan caught him eyeing his gun more than once. While Weston loaded a backup with bullets, Boyd sidled up to him, arms wrapped around himself in the cold. "Happen to have any ideas about avoiding hypothermia?"

    "Why you askin' me?" Raylan mumbled, consciously leaning away from him. He hoped to God that Jiya wasn't watching.

    "I figured with the number of layers you usually wear, you'd have some clue," Boyd remarked.

    "Well. I don't."

    "Mm. You gonna be weird with me for the next twenty years again?" Boyd murmured, eyebrows raised at him.

    Raylan didn't enjoy the line of questioning. He was damn sure he'd already told Boyd they weren't talking about this. He kicked at the banks of snow, grateful he was wearing boots but a little less impressed by the wet cuffs of his jeans. "Nothing to be weird about."

    "You sure?" Boyd hugged himself tighter, looking unimpressed, and clucked his tongue. "So you didn't have a hand on my ass earlier today? No way your tongue was down my throat?"

    Raylan stiffened. "Keep your fuckin' voice d-"

    "Raylan, you got enough bullets?" Weston called out, holding up a clip.

    "I'm good." 

    "Alright."

    Boyd sighed and shook his head, and his teeth chattered when they came back together. "How long do you think you can keep this up?"

    "Try me," Raylan snapped.

    Rachel came over, at least somewhat protected in her leather jacket, and nodded towards the dark outlines of buildings on the horizon. "Shall we?"

    "Ladies first," Raylan told her, taking his hat back and settling it on his head. And privately, when they fell into step, "I oughta owe you dinner for getting me out of that fuckin' conversation."

    "Oh, but I already own your sense of self-worth since you failed so terribly at that bet. Unless-" She paused, tapping a finger on her chin. "A new bet, perhaps? Maybe about the other aspects of your relationship with a certain member of our group?"

    "Mm, guess I'll talk to Weston," Raylan replied, falling back to join him. 

    Rachel caught up with Jiya and Boyd trudged somewhere off to the side. No one was particularly conversational, and Raylan didn't mind that. Today was wearing on him. Too much had happened, it was dark as hell, and it was so unbelievably cold. The wind was the worst of it- every time it picked up not only did it blow a fistful of snow in his face, but it chilled him to the bone. The first empty building they found they would likely have to spend the night insulating just to avoid their own frozen deaths. 

    "Never knew I'd miss a shitty truck so much," Weston said, letting his hair out of its knot as they walked. "The worst part is this is probably the warmest this city's gonna get until the spring."

    "That's real uplifting. Look'it you, so positive," Raylan replied. He reached a hand up and jammed his hat down a little harder, annoyed that the wind wanted it so bad. There was nothing good about this kind of weather.

    Weston snorted. He shook his head. "You and Crowder all squared away? Or I gotta get in on a fight again."

    "You're good," Raylan assured him. "But I appreciate the thought."

    "It seem, uh... weird to you, how quiet everything's been since we left Kentucky?"

    The silence did seem deafening. "Now that you mention it, I don't like it. In my experience if you can't hear the trouble, it's liable to sneak up on you."

    "Yeah, that was my thinking as well." Weston was quiet for a few steps, then, "It's like going hunting, and all of a sudden the woods going unnaturally quiet."

    "Christ," Raylan sighed, "you're probably right."

    "So who's the predator here?"

    Raylan hoped the answer was Crowe, still trailing them and somehow entirely unseen on the white canvass before them, but feared what he told Weston: "The sick."

    "'Least we got a chance of them all just being icicles," Weston hoped.

    "Wouldn't that be lucky."

    "Hey, Crowder seems to think we are."

    It occurred to Raylan about halfway to the city limits that perhaps Boyd wanted to talk to make sure Raylan knew that he was uninterested. The thought that Boyd might not want him hadn't really occurred to him before, but it was possible that that was why Boyd was so eager to talk. After all, the last time they'd fucked, Raylan had been the one to end things. And maybe not in the best way. It was possible Boyd had only kissed him on a whim and had no intentions of trying it again. For some reason that realization made Raylan extra tense about the situation, which he felt was counter-intuitive. It didn't help that the more he thought about it the more he wound up thinking about Boyd moaning his name, which at the very least made him feel a little warmer. Silver lining, and all.

    He'd known Boyd since they were boys on swings in summer, avoiding their daddies and freckling in the sun. He'd never followed through on any promises he made back then, so if Boyd hated him for that he supposed he couldn't blame him.

    Fuck did he need a drink.

    They caught up to Rachel, Jiya, and Boyd eventually, and Raylan walked next to Rachel for a while and listened to everyone else make small-talk. Jiya had asked Boyd as they approached about the group he'd been with before them, and Boyd was clumsily relaying the story, teeth chattering every other word. "You ever try to get shit done with a bunch of Harlan folk who won't listen to five G-Goddamn words without getting distracted? By the time they started getting into fist fights I had to leave for my own sanity. The years I s-spent trying to wrangle folks into some sort of community and organization, and for what, I ask you?"

    "So what about the cut?"

    "Hm?" 

    "What about the cut?" Raylan repeated, immediately cursing himself for even opening his mouth. "On your leg. You get that from leaving of your own accord?"

    Boyd was silent a moment. Then, "I tripped."

    "Yeah, that's what you said last time I asked. Still seems like bullshit to me."

    Boyd seemed unbothered by his snark. He shrugged, sort of. A shivery sort of shrug. "Well, I can't spend all my time trying to will your stubborn mind, Raylan."

    They were close to town now, so Raylan let it go. He palmed the flashlight he'd clipped to his belt and breathed out slowly, watching his breath form a cloud in front of his face. "Rachel? Any idea where we oughta go?"

    "I don't know about you, but how about first building we see we hole up in? I'm so cold I can't feel my hands," she replied, and the worry etched into her forehead concerned Raylan more than the silence and the snow.

    Everyone nodded, except Boyd who looked lost in thought. Raylan turned his flashlight on and covered the bulb with his palm, letting enough light leak from between his fingers to look ahead at the buildings. They were coming up on a looming apartment building and all of its remaining windows were pitch black. He wasn't expecting to see any lights on, of course, but a faint glow of a candle or a lantern would be a pretty good tip-off that it was occupied in some way. They circled the building until they came to the front, and Raylan peered through the broken window in the door. There was no movement, and no sound. 

    Looking over his shoulder, Raylan gestured for Boyd to come over. When he was close Raylan murmured, "Oughta stay behind me. Since you don't got a gun."

    "You know," Boyd said finally, "you could just give me a gun."

    "I don't like you with a gun."

    "I haven't historically had a great time where yours was concerned either," Boyd pointed out.

    Raylan rubbed the back of his hand against his forehead and his skin actually hurt with the cold. "Alright. I hear you. Can we sort it out once we get somewhere? Just stay behind me or Rachel for now."

    "Alright." Boyd acquiesced with surprising grace, falling in behind him and watching him hawkish but trusting. "At least you a dead-shot."

    They pushed inside, Rachel leading the way. It reminded Raylan heavily of their marshal days, kicking down doors with Rachel at his side and napping with his hat over his face when she drove them long ways back and forth from the office. He missed it. "Hey Murtaugh," he whispered, "you gonna be a good shot with your frostbite over there?"

    Rachel snorted, her teeth white in her smile when she said, "I'll be fine, Riggs. Worry about yourself."

    The lobby opened on to the start of a staircase, and Raylan motioned to the others once they got to the first landing and hallway to stay back. "Rachel and I'll check it out. Give us five."

    Raylan got the first door open before Weston could put up a fight on it, shouldering it open with his gun drawn. Rachel went in first, flashlight shining over rows of washing machines. "Laundry room. Means the next one's probably a boiler room or something."

    There was a short gasp from outside the room and, before Raylan could react, a gunshot. He exchanged a quick look with Rachel and they left the laundry room like the building was on fire. "Everyone okay?" he asked quickly, feeling his heart picking up speed.

    "Jiya downed him. Hear that?"

    Raylan looked from the gunshot and twitching rabid slumped against the wall to Jiya's pistol, to the you-are-giving-me-a-Goddamn-gun look on Boyd's face. "Hear what?" Raylan asked, but soon as he did he heard the creaking of a door and the sound of footsteps. He cocked his gun and slipped down the hall, leaning back against it before leaning around the corner. He counted five silhouettes of rabids and two bodies, and ducked back around to shake his head at Rachel. "Let's go," he mouthed, and Jiya and Rachel nodded.

    No one dared say a word until they were outside, at which point Weston muttered, "Well that was a bust."

    "I'm still unarmed," Boyd began to complain.

    Raylan glanced up in time to see two rabids advancing quickly to the door, and slammed it shut, cutting him off. "Rachel?"

    She was already fishing a line of cord from her bag and she tossed it to him, backing Boyd up as Raylan tied the door handles together. The building hadn't exactly been heated but the outside still felt so much colder, and Raylan gritted his teeth as a rabid thrust its head out the window and snapped the air next to his head. "Asshole," he told it, watching the trail of blood leaking from the corner of its eye congeal in the winter air. He considered putting a bullet in its head out of pity or spite but couldn't afford to waste one. "Let's get the fuck out of here."

    "Where to?" Rachel asked him as they all backed away from the loosely held doors as two more rabids shoved up against the others. 

    "Hey, this town was your idea," Raylan pointed out. "How 'bout you lead the way?"

    They slipped through dark alleys, down abandoned streets, keeping quiet to avoid drawing any more attention to themselves. Raylan knew they needed to put a good distance between themselves and the apartment building just in case the snow didn't totally mask their scent, but he also knew that they couldn't stay outside too much longer. Boyd and Jiya seemed to be faring the worst, Boyd with his thin frame and Jiya entirely unused to the cold. Raylan brushed his shoulder against Rachel's, stepping up front with her as they picked their feet up through snowy banks and shivered down a dark road. "We don't got a lot longer out here."

    "I know," she murmured back. "I think your boyfriend's gonna freeze to death."

    "You try'na be funny?" he asked her.

    "Maybe. But he really is turning blue. Hey-" she stopped in her tracks and Raylan almost fell on his face trying to stop as fast. "That look like a light to you?"

    Raylan squinted in the direction she was staring. "Maybe? Shit- I think you're right."

    "Question is, do we wanna know who's putting out a light?"

    Raylan waited for the others to catch up. When they did, Boyd shivering from head to toe and Jiya and Weston hardly looking any better, he said, "Wanna take our chances with the light up ahead?"

    "Yep," Boyd decided immediately. 

    "I'm in," Jiya agreed, and Weston shrugged, which from him usually meant a yes.

    "Away we go then," Raylan sighed

    Rachel swept her hand towards the beckoning light. "After you."

-


	7. 12:22 a.m./85 days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The crew find a safe house and Raylan discovers that he lacks proper impulse control.

 

12:22 a.m.

85 days

 

    "How have you managed to keep this place going?" 

    The tiny lady handing them all blankets gave Rachel a sweet smile. "Determination and love for our community. And a generator that we had from before, when we were still a soup kitchen. Well, I guess we still are."

    Raylan yanked the blanket around his shoulders, at ease in the soft light of the single bulb the place was powering. He was still cold, but their luck at finding the place was distracting enough to keep his mind off it. He kicked some of the snow off his boots against the wall. "How many you got here?"

    "Dimitri, Chrissie, and I run the place, and there's about four other survivors holed up in bunks right now," she told them. "Do you have bedrolls? I think we even have a couple of spare tents you could keep on you, in case you leave us too soon."

    Raylan might normally have been wary of such kindness, but he tended to trust his instincts and his instincts said that inside with a blanket was better than outside with hypothermia and rabid folk. He took his hat off and shook the snow out of it, running a hand through his damp hair and wondering how wild it looked. "I can stay out here while y'all get settled, go over everything and see what we need," he offered.

    Rachel looked them all over and shook her head. "No, I think I'm faring better than you. Talia, was it?"

    "It was," Talia beamed. 

    "It okay with you if these guys go take a nap while you show me around your little place?"

    "Of course, of course. I'll get soup going soon so when you all wake up you can have something to eat."

    Food was far from Raylan's mind, but he appreciated the gesture anyway. Weston nodded to Rachel and said, "I'll stick with you, I'm not tired."

    "Okay," she agreed, offering him a fist to bump.

    Raylan realized a second later that Rachel had stuck him with Jiya and Boyd. He gestured between them. "So guess that means I'm making sure these assholes don't die?"

    "There should be a space heater in the rooms, the first two doors on the left of the hall," Talia supplied, handing him some gloves from her pocket. 

    "Thank you," Raylan replied, and he meant it. "Truly. Your hospitality is likely saving our hides tonight."

    Talia looked pleased. "That means the world to me."

    "She's nuts," Jiya whispered once Raylan had a set of keys. 

    "She's nice," Raylan countered. He usually wasn't the one to make this argument, but then usually Jiya wasn't the type to be so distrustful. They all had new roles tonight, he supposed. "Even if she's crazy, I'd rather die in here than out there."

    "Fair."

    Boyd went ahead to the second door and Raylan unlocked the first one for Jiya, letting her in and checking her space heater. The room was shockingly warm compared to the outside, and he felt goosebumps crawl up his spine. "You gonna be okay?" he asked her, trying to see how pale her face looked. "Against my better judgment I wanna make sure he didn't fall over and die in there."

    "I'm already warming up, I will be fine. Rachel will be joining me shortly anyhow."

    "Alright." Raylan felt reluctant to leave her on her own, but she waved him away. "If you're sure, we're next door. Just holler."

    "I'll holler," Jiya assured him, smiling. Some warmth was returning to her face and she settled on the cot by the heater, taking her shoes off with steadier hands.

    Raylan let himself out and closed the door behind him, padding down the hall to the next one. He slipped inside and shut the door, kicking off his boots by the space heater. Boyd was hunched over on the edge of a cot, still shivering, eyes closed. "You alright?"

    "I can't get warm," Boyd mumbled. "I fuckin' hate the north, Raylan. At least  _my_  plan involved sunshine."

    Raylan rolled his eyes. He put his bag down in front of the heater as well and dug through it for the clothes he'd hastily shoved in it when Talia had handed him a shirt and pants in something close to his size. He started to unbutton his shirt and glanced at him again. "You oughta change out of your wet clothes."

    "Too c-cold."

    "Wet clothes ain't gonna help."

    "Shut up, Raylan," Boyd whined.

    Raylan shut up, because he was so fucking tired that he could barely stay on his feet and he didn't feel like arguing for Boyd's own fucking good. He changed into the sweater Talia had given him, stretching the hem out in front of him. It had a cat on it. "This don't make me look so tough. I might make you trade if you got one with like, stripes or somethin'."

    Boyd's lack of response, at the very least to make fun of him, was troubling. Raylan changed into the dry pants, lay his jeans out, and pulled the blanket over his shoulders again before making his way over to Boyd. He was white as a ghost and shivering hard enough that the cot jittered slightly. Raylan couldn't help but feel badly for him, and underneath that he felt a genuine worry. It wasn't like he could whip Boyd over to a hospital if need be. "Lemme see your hands."

    They shook when Boyd held them out, and they were ice cold to the touch. Raylan sat down beside him and picked his bag up, pulling out the sweater and pants and tossing them onto the sheets. "C'mere."

    "You don't gotta- I ain't no child," Boyd protested.

    "You whining like one."

    Boyd made a disgusted sound at having the blanket taken from him, and he was even pissier about Raylan wrestling him out of his thin turtleneck. His skin was unnaturally flushed in the wrong places and Raylan pressed the back of his hand to Boyd's shoulder, then his forehead. "You're fuckin' lucky we ran into this place."

    "Sweater."

    Raylan handed it over and helped him pull it over his head, trying not to let his eyes wander over Boyd's scarred chest and tight stomach. "Pants too."

    Boyd made a face at him, but it lost its power thanks to the ice crystals that had formed on his eyelashes and in his hair and begun to melt. He looked the way cats did after a bath. Raylan waited on him to kick his jeans off, then helped him stay steady enough to get his sweatpants on. Boyd mumbled something that was almost a 'thank you', and Raylan just nodded, handing him the blanket back. He was worried about Boyd's fingers the most- his hands were clumsy and the skin on them a bluish-white that seemed like a bad sign. "Gimme your hands."

    Frowning, Boyd produced his hands again. Raylan took them in his own and held them together, rubbing the backs of them gently. Boyd had always had nice hands; slender fingers and soft palms and a couple of calluses when he was working in mining or construction. They were a little rougher nowadays, and there was a new scar along his thumb that Raylan couldn't place. He wondered what Boyd had gotten into and rubbed his thumbs along his knuckles, looking up in time to see Boyd watching him carefully, odd expression betrayed by his constant shivering. "What?"

    Boyd just shook his head, licking his dry lips and shuffling a little closer to him along the bed. Raylan gave up on fighting the turn this evening was taking and let him sit close, holding Boyd's hands between them and squeezing warmth back into them. Once something almost like color had started to work up from his wrists Raylan let go of his hands and rubbed his palms up the sides of Boyd's arms, hoping that something would kick in and warm him enough to get him through the night. Boyd was giving him that look again and Raylan frowned hard at him, beginning to feel exasperated. "What?"

    "You're bein' awful kind," Boyd whispered.

    "I'm still not talkin' about earlier," Raylan told him, determined to stand strong on that point at least.

    "Okay." 

    Fuck. They were so close and before he really knew what he was doing his nose bumped against Boyd's, cold and flushed, and he let his lips drag over his as well. Boyd's hands drifted to his chest and he made a sound like a quiet gasp, fingers splayed out and cold against Raylan's collarbone. There was a stillness between them, a lack of surety at least on Raylan's part. He leaned back just slightly and Boyd followed after, eyes closed and cheeks pink and mouth catching the corner of his. Raylan slid a hand up his arm to his neck and held him still again, brushing another kiss over his lips, strung-out already and letting his other hand fall to Boyd's thigh. 

    "I mean it," he breathed, half-remembering what they'd been talking about.

    "Okay," Boyd whispered. His fingers caught the collar of Raylan's sweater, fiddling with it as he leaned in again. "Sure, Raylan."

    When Raylan kissed him again it felt a lot like kissing him all that time ago. He wasn't pissed off right now and neither was Boyd; it was just something that was happening between them. A spell, or a curse, or just because they wanted to. He got his thumb turned into the inside of Boyd's thigh and slid it up, feeling his breath catch in his throat as his pulse hammered against his other hand. There was heat spreading through Boyd's body finally and Raylan wondered just how hot he could make him.

    The sound of a door opening in the hall made Raylan pull back fast. He froze like a live wire, ready to go, and when he heard two footsteps in the hall he sprang away from Boyd and towards his bag of things. He busied himself with the clothes he'd put down by the heater just in time for Weston to push the door open. 

    Boyd still looked stunned and confused, but Weston didn't seem to notice. "Hey, guys."

    "Sup," Raylan managed.

    "They gave us a bunch of shit, man. Bedrolls, a couple of tents- can't believe how small they can roll those up."

    "Ain't much of a camper?" Boyd asked him, clearing his throat and drawing the blanket closer. 

    Weston shook his head, kicking the door closed and tossing a winter coat Raylan's way. Raylan caught it and watched him throw a second one to Boyd. He couldn't remember the last time he'd worn a full-out winter coat. "Never been camping."

    "Shit," Raylan commented. He held the coat up and counted the pockets on it. He wondered how long he'd be wearing it. "Boyd'n I spent more time in tents than houses growing up."

    Boyd scoffed. "More time in your shitty truck than an actual tent."

    "I did love that truck."

    Weston gave them a funny look, then shook his head and pulled the sheets back on the cot across from Boyd's. "I'm too fuckin' tired to ask how you can camp in a truck."

    Raylan dreamed a constant whirl of images and sounds that night. He wasn't usually much of a dreamer, and in moments of semi-consciousness between dreams he wondered if it was the cold or Boyd's mouth on his spurring on his subconscious. He dreamed of his mama, then of Arlo scratching on the outside of a window and looking in at him, belt raised. He dreamed of Tim with his nose in a book on a stake-out. 

    And he did dream of Boyd; blurry, vague, flickering dreams. Boyd's hands on his back, nails parallel to his spine. Boyd's head tilted back against the passenger seat, fading to flecks of dust in the sunlight as Raylan drove along the highway and out of state. The barrel of his gun pressing into Boyd's chest, then through him, piercing flesh and muscle alike. He dreamed of fucking him woke up feeling the heat from his body still lingering over him. 

    He sat up halfway and found the mattress with his hands, supporting his weight as he blinked through the dark, confused as he was warm. When the warmth didn't fade away he pushed himself up the rest of the way and swung his feet over the edge of the bed. He could see his feet in the dark, illuminated by the faint orange glow coming from beneath the door. 

    The glow flickered back and forth and his blood ran cold.

-


	8. 6:14 a.m./85 days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fire with far-reaching consequences makes trouble for everyone.

6:14 a.m.

85 days

 

    At least Boyd was good in a crisis. 

    He had their things packed by the time Raylan had woken Jiya and Rachel, the smoke from the fire already making them cough. He came back through the door, catching his hat as Boyd tossed it to him and feeling thankful that one of them had remembered it. They nodded to each other and Weston cocked his gun. Raylan glanced between them. "Get out with everyone else."

    Weston coughed and squinted at him, a hand on the butt of his gun. "What about you?"

    "I'm gonna make sure everyone else is out."

    "I'll stay with you," Boyd told him while Weston said, "Rachel's not gonna leave then."

    "Then make her," he said to Weston. "Go. Before the roof caves in."

    "Are you sure-"

    "Get."

    Weston got, and Raylan turned to Boyd, heart hammering in his chest. "You too."

    Boyd swung a bag over his shoulder and made his way to the door. He paused just long enough to look him in the eyes, unwavering. "You can argue with me, knowin' full well I ain't listening to a word you say, or we can make sure everyone's out safe."

    "Fuck," Raylan sighed, and gave in. 

    Boyd shouldered by him and across the hall, touching the doorknob lightly. He swung open the door and peeked inside. "Empty."

    Raylan was already kicking in a door down the hall, glad it was weak enough that he could pull it off without embarrassing himself in front of Boyd. It was too hot to turn the knob on, and when it swung in he got a face full of smoke that had him coughing as he stumbled a step back. "Raylan," Boyd hollered, "if there's anyone in there, they already gone the way of Pompeii! Do me a favor and shut that Goddamn door!"

    Raylan ignored him and ducked inside, flicking his flashlight on. He still couldn't see inside properly and he swore under his breath and took a few more steps in, squinting hard. The sound of fire eating through wood reminded him of a summer bonfire, but the smell did not.

    A beam overhead collapsed as he began to make his way forward, and he heard the telltale creak of the ceiling giving way. It happened so fast that he didn't quite understand the debris on the floor in front of him until after Boyd had pulled him out of its way by the back of his sweater, cursing and muttering, "You supposed to be smarter'n that."

    Raylan choked on the air, tilting his hat down to shield his eyes some. "Saved my life."

    "Get."

    "Three more rooms."

    "Raylan," Boyd breathed, raspy by his ear, "there ain't. Take it from a fire-starter such as myself, this building's comin' down. Now it's comin' down with or without you, boy, and I'd prefer without you."

    "Boyd-"

    "Lady when we got here said there was four others, plus her'n the two she was running the place with. We get outside and there ain't twelve of us, I'll let you run back in and play firefighter."

    Raylan opened his mouth again but the ceiling began to collapse down the hall, the building shaking in its frame around them. "Fuck!" he swore, and gave Boyd a bit of a shove in the other direction. "Alright. Go.  _Go_."

    They made it halfway to the front of the building when the flames cut them off. Raylan glanced around, then took the coat rack by the wall. "Cover your eyes," he told Boyd, but Boyd was ahead of him, shielding his face in time for the glass in the window to shatter. Raylan tossed the coat rack aside once he'd knocked most of the rest out of the way. "Get," he said.

    "You get," Boyd told him.

    "Jesus Christ-" Raylan began, but Boyd gave him a look and gave in, hopping out the window like some lithe young thing likely to avoid arguing about who was to go first until they both were engulfed in flame.

    He clambered out less delicately, Boyd grabbing at his elbow on the way through. Rachel looked about to ready to kill him even from the distance she was at. "You think she's pissed?" Raylan asked.

    Boyd looked over his shoulder at her, still hell-bent on tugging Raylan away from the building. The fresh air was a relief even though it was so damn cold. "You may be in the dog house now, Raylan."

    Raylan let Boyd more or less yank him through the snow and across to the road. When they were in earshot Weston said, "You still feel like we're lucky, Crowder?"

    "We all got our lives, Weston, so I would say yes I do."

    Raylan stopped dead. "Hold on. We're seven. Where's everyone else?"

    "Uh, Dimitri said the other travelers were gone already when he checked their rooms," Rachel explained, dusting ash off Raylan's shoulder. "Must've taken off in the night."

    "You think they did this?" he asked.

    "Dimitri?" Rachel prompted.

    The man beside her, beard short and face pale, seemed transfixed by the building. It seemed that they all realized where Talia was at the same time, windows shattering like a confetti shower celebrating the one person they'd overlooked. Raylan started forward only for Boyd to tighten a hand around his elbow, so Raylan got in his face. "You let me go right now or I shoot your arm off."

    "He's right," Rachel said, and they all stood watching as the last of the walls came down, the building collapsing in on itself in a cocoon of heat, flame, and tinder. "There's no saving her now."

    "Dammit, you-" He yanked his arm from Boyd's grasp, "I  _told you_  I wasn't done in there!"

    Boyd opened his mouth, but didn't say anything. Dimitri said, voice so low Raylan barely heard him, "She went back in. It was her decision."

    "Why?" Rachel asked, while Raylan took his hat off and ran his fingers through his hair.

    "She wanted the photo we took day we opened this place. I told her not to go, but she said it would be right there."

    The wind picked up, fanning the flames. 

-

    Dimitri and Chrissie declined to go with them, holding each other as they watched the cold and the snow slowly turn fire to ash. Since they had more than they'd started with, Jiya fashioned them a sled of sorts from the top of a plastic garbage can, attaching a piece of rope to it and tossing their extra bags on top. Raylan didn't feel right just leaving but couldn't deny the necessity of getting back indoors. Or at least somewhere out of sight. The building burning presented a new worry to them all that went unspoken as they stumbled through the snow: the idea that they had a third danger to worry about outside of the rabids and the Crowes. An unseen, unknown danger.

    "We even know where we're going?" Weston asked aloud. 

    "No," Rachel replied.

    "Seems to me that perhaps the city is too inhospitable for us," Boyd said, trying to talk over the wind. "Now that we got ourselves some coats, could be that making for the trees for a while might do us well. We could scope the area out, get a feel for the conditions out here. If the rabids move 'round these parts more during the day we might be able to get an idea of how many we up against."

    "He has a point," Jiya said, speaking up for the first time in a while. She was tired still, Raylan could tell. "So far I would agree that the city does not seem to want us here."

    "See, Raylan? I have a point." Boyd was giving him a small teasing smile but Raylan did not return it. 

    Rachel trudged another couple of steps, hands buried deep in the pockets of her coat. "You think we can keep warm enough without four walls?"

    "I do," Jiya murmured, tugging the sled along over snow banks and holes. "We have tents big enough to house ten of us, no matter five. Bedrolls. Blankets. Coats."

    "Trees it is." Rachel sighed, stopping long enough for Jiya to catch up to her. "Get out that map, how far are we from the woods?"

    "Two hours on foot," Jiya said automatically. "But you can look for yourself."

    "I trust you."

    Boyd fell back enough to meet Raylan's pace, gesturing for the ladies to lead the way. When they were a safe enough distance, Raylan felt Boyd's gloved fingers slip against his. He jerked away, and Boyd said quiet, "You couldn't have saved her."

    "Yeah, I could'a."

    "There were more doors you still wanted to check, and she was on the other side of the building."

    "Boyd," he said, hoping he could communicate how much of a warning it was without raising his voice enough for the others to hear. "You oughta drop it right now. I know you known me long enough to tell when I'm this fuckin' mad."

    Boyd let the wind take over for a moment, then replied, "It was her own fault, going back in."

    Raylan stopped in the snow. Boyd stopped as well, and Raylan turned towards him, fist clenched at his side. "You ever try and decide for me again what I do with myself and you and I are gonna have the kind of problem you don't want us to have."

    Boyd looked at him, eyes flickering over his face like he was trying to read him. He stayed too calm, hands at his sides. "I saved your life. Even your partner, who never was very fond of me, knows that much."

    "Every time I didn't draw on you back then I saved yours. You wanna weigh who owes who?"

    Boyd laughed dryly. "What's owing got to do with it?"

    Raylan swallowed, trying not to look at his face. He was angry at himself for letting Boyd make him leave but he was angrier at Boyd for thinking he knew what was best in the first place. He was bothered too by the nagging, Arlo-inspired fear that their stroke of bad luck was due to him spending more time kissing Boyd than doing the Lord's work. Whatever the fuck that happened to be. "What do you want from me?"

    "I don't want anything from you, Raylan."

    "Yeah well," Raylan clenched his jaw, rage a hot spiral in his chest like steam from a kettle, "I don't want nothin' from you either. I don't know where my head's been at since you came across us, but I've had enough of you acting like we're fucking friends or like you got- some claim on me. You ain't no fucking leader of anything I signed up for and we sure as shit ain't friends. Stop acting like we're gonna what, patch things off and be pals? Fuck off, and fuck you."

    Boyd didn't kiss him this time. He dragged his teeth over his lower lip and put his hands in his pockets, looking ahead to where the others had stopped to wait on them. He nodded slowly at his feet then, and left Raylan in the snow to walk on to the group. Raylan was left standing there, face chilled by the wind picking up, as empty as the town of everything but anger.

-


	9. 12:00 p.m./85 days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rachel and Raylan have a heart-to-heart, and set up camp.

12:00 p.m.

85 days

 

    "You wanna talk about it?"

    Raylan took a drink from his beer, stared at Rachel over the rim. "I ever wanted to before?"

    "I don't know what you want," she told him, settling in with her back against the chunk of concrete wall. "I'm not about to start guessing after all this time."

    Raylan sighed and stretched his leg out. His heel stopped against the wall where she sat, and he set his beer down on the dirty floor. "At least the snow makes for cold beer."

    "Mhm." Rachel had left her coat open and her button-down was blue. It reminded Raylan of the outfits she used to wear to work.

    Spinning the beer bottle in circles, Raylan let his head fall back and his hat down over his eyes. "What were you thinkin' I had to talk about?"

    Rachel toed her boots off and put her socked feet on him. Outside the small unfinished building the wind howled and Jiya shared a joint with Boyd, far enough to be out of earshot. Weston was sleeping the break away to boot, curled up with their bags to keep him warm, so Rachel paid him no mind when she said, "I'm gonna let you in on my theory."

    "This oughta be good."

    "You like to pretend you're a big tough guy who don't need anyone, but I worked beside you long enough to know  _that's_  bullshit."

    Raylan peeked out from under his hat at her. "You can skip to the point, we don't gotta do this song and dance about my tragic soul."

    Rachel poked him in the gut with her toe and leaned back again. "Okay, you want me to be cut and dry? I know you fucked him."

    "Fucked who?" Raylan tried.

    "Art. Who do you think I mean?"

    Raylan closed his eyes, glad for the hat covering part of his face. Rachel always had been so damn observant. Too damn good at her job. Had everything not crumbled, she would have made one hell of a chief. "We didn't fuck."

    "Raylan-"

    "We just kissed. A while."

    Rachel was silent long enough for Raylan's heart to make its way up into his throat. He rubbed the bridge of his nose from under his hat. "You uh," he paused, licking his lips. "This gonna change things between us?"

    "You think I care that you're gay, bisexual, whatever?" Rachel asked him, dropping her voice enough to make him comfortable. "That why you never mentioned it while we were working together?"

    "I didn't think it was relevant."

    "A little relevant that you had it bad for one of our biggest criminal targets though."

    Raylan breathed out slow. She wasn't entirely wrong, although he didn't like to think of it as  _having it bad_. "Believe me, it didn't change me wanting to put him away."

    "So why are you sulking now?" Rachel asked. 

    Raylan pulled his hat down the rest of the way, folding his hands on his chest and reclining as comfortably as he could on concrete. It wasn't no hay-bale. "'Cause I'm pissed as hell, Rach."

    "What happened back there?"

    "He jerked me out of the way of some of the roof caving in, then thought he could talk me outta staying and going through the rest of the place. I wanted to make sure everyone was accounted for and he thought he knew better'n me enough to try manhandling me out the door."

    Rachel didn't say a word. Raylan waited a minute, then pushed his hat all the way back and stared at her. "What."

    "You really wanna hear my piece?" 

    Raylan frowned. "Wouldn'ta asked if I didn't."

    "Well... I'm glad he was there to make you see sense. As someone who's been at your side in similar situations, you... Raylan, you're a good-ol' American hero. But you can't be a hero if you're dead."

    "So you're saying I shouldn't be pissed at him?" he asked, incredulous.

    Rachel shrugged. She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. It was starting to transition back to curly now that she wasn't relaxing it routinely, and it got in her face more often. "I'm not saying you shouldn't be pissed at him. Telling you not to be mad about something is like hitting a hornet's nest with a stick. I'm just saying that... I don't know. Do you love him?"

    "Course I don't," Raylan muttered.

    Rachel rolled her eyes and took his beer from him, finishing the last sip. "Okay, feelings hour can be over if you want. Just... there ain't that many of us left."

    "I know that."

    "I know you do."

    They sat together in a silent challenge for a while. Raylan wasn't sure if he was mad at her for defending Boyd or not. Boyd, of all people.

    It wasn't long before Jiya came in, taking their beer bottles from them and messing with the tilt of Raylan's hat. "You ready to keep walking?"

    Raylan stretched his arms out in front of him, lacing his fingers and cracking his knuckles. He didn't really want to get up and start moving again but he figured it was in their best interest to find a good place to set up camp before the sun went down. Of course, they had a few hours still, but who knew what else Michigan had in store for them. "Kick Weston for me?" Raylan requested.

    Jiya kicked Weston lightly in the ankle. "Up and at them."

    Boyd ducked under the half a roof and nodded to everyone, although he didn't look at Raylan. Not that Raylan was looking at him. "We oughta stay close enough to the tree line that we can find our way back to it to keep a lookout, but not so close we come across a lot of stragglers."

    "Agreed," Rachel said, standing and brushing her hands on the back of her jeans. She gave Raylan one last look. "We can figure out who's sharing which tent when we find out where to actually set them up."

    Raylan stood on unsteady feet, still processing the idea of Rachel knowing something about him that he usually kept a secret. The only person he'd ever talked about being queer to was Tim, and that was because Tim was gay as the sun was hot. And he'd never told Tim about Boyd. He wondered if he'd ever see Tim again, if he'd get the chance to make fun of him for sleeping with the enemy. "Jiya, you got your compass on you?"

    She held it up on its chain so he could see, eyes a little red but hands steady. He was glad she was as quick a navigator when she was a little stoned. He wondered how Boyd was faring too but wasn't about to ask him. He'd only seen Boyd high a couple of times, when they were kids. Both times, Boyd had wound up making him stargaze. Raylan hadn't minded so much though back then, Boyd kind of hazy and happier than usual, like he wasn't so worried about what tomorrow would bring.

    Raylan brushed by him on his way out and felt that familiar anger itch beneath his fingernails. Things were different now.

-

    Raylan remembered being better at setting up a tent than he turned out to be. They'd found a small sort of dip in a hill, a snowy spot that made it hard to miss any visitors. Driving supports into frozen ground wasn't so easy, and he had to take his gloves off to do anything properly. His fingers were freezing and clumsy and he kept feeling Boyd watching him which just made him more determined to get the job done. They had two tents between them all, and while the tents were on the larger side it was still going to be close quarters. He wondered distantly how long it would be until they were all at each other's throats.

    Once he could finally slip his gloves back on, his brain switched from complaining about the cold to feeling immensely tired. He hadn't exactly slept long the night before, or the night before that. He stifled a yawn behind his hand and raised his eyebrows to Rachel. "How you think this is gonna go?"

    Rachel tossed their last bag inside one of the tents and shrugged. She straightened up, combing snowflakes out of her hair. "Kind of a fox, chicken, seed sort of problem isn't it?"

    Raylan snorted, watching their words turn to smoke in the air. It reminded him of the fire. "I don't care who I'm sleeping next to so long as I'm sleeping soon."

    "Time for your afternoon nap, grandpa?"

    "Something like that." He glanced around at the snowy trees. "We could do a boys n' girls kinda thing."

    "How old-fashioned of you," Rachel said, smiling. "Fine by me though. Jiya's good company. You can have those two dipshits." 

    Raylan looked to where she gestured, Boyd scraping bark off a stick with his pocket knife and Weston fucking around with their one pair of binoculars from Raylan's marshal days. "Yeah, great."

    "Weston will straighten you two out if need be," she assured him. 

    "Hilarious."

    Raylan pretended to be asleep once he'd hunkered down in his sleeping bag, done up past his face to keep from getting frostbite on his nose while he slept. Sometimes he was good enough at pretending to be asleep that he could trick himself into it. He listened to Weston and Boyd talking outside the tent, voices muffled from the vinyl and the trees. "I will never understand how folks camp in winter for fun," Boyd said.

    "Shit, do they?"

    "You really are a lost soul when it comes to the wilderness, ain't you?"

    "Yeah, and then some."

    "Harlan winters were never that bad, but you'd still have been hard pressed to find me out in them woods when I could be up in my daddy's hunting cabin with a bottle of whiskey. The good Lord brought us indoors so we could appreciate his gift of a good wood stove."

    "Amen to that."

    The sound of a zipper, and then Boyd whispering, "You got enough room?" and Weston whispering back, "I'm all good."

    Raylan had hoped Weston would take the spot between them, but he could tell just from the sound of his breathing that it was Boyd laying down behind him. It was weird still to be able to know that from so little. He let himself drift, and at times dreamed of rolling over to curl into him, take the warmth from his body by pressing against him the way they had years ago. He dreamed the smell of his hair, and the feel of it between his fingers.

    He slept right through the night, woke up to the sun barely rising and the bed beside him empty. Weston was rolled up with his face pressed into vinyl borders and Raylan tried not to wake him as he unzipped his bag and the tent right after. Boyd had a fire started on a bed of branches in the snow, Jiya sitting on a tree stump near him and showing him a few pages out of her notebook. 

    Raylan cleared his throat. "Rachel still asleep?" he asked of Jiya.

    She nodded, held out a can of baked beans warmed on the fire. Raylan took it gratefully. "Thank you."

    "Don't thank me," Jiya said, "thank Boyd."

    Raylan declined to. He found a spot on a log by her and tucked his booted feet into the snow. "I interrupting?"

    "No, I was just telling Boyd about  _Indra_ , the god of storms. I thought it was apt."

    He watched Boyd flip through some of the pages, musing over drawings and notes and looking as focused as he usually did with a book in hand. Sleep had sapped Raylan of his righteous anger. Now he just felt weary and longed for the small patches of time they'd found to be peaceful with one another. "Makes me think of Zeus. You know, the lightning guy," he said in a sort of pathetic attempt to join the conversation.

    Jiya pulled her hair back, waves dancing around her fingertips. "Tell me about him."

    "Boyd knows better'n I do," Raylan confessed, chancing a look at him.

    Boyd didn't look up, but he did pick a blank page towards the back of the journal. "Horus, Jupiter, Zeus, all fairly similar weather gods. Zeus-" he sketched lines of a baby, swaddled in its mother's arms. He drew so fast. Raylan hadn't remembered that. "His daddy, Cronus, a leader of the Titans, swallowed all the babies born to him."

    By the time Rachel woke up, Jiya had her head on Boyd's shoulder to watch him draw. Raylan handed her her own can of beans and thought of a time when he'd listened to Boyd's stories, watched him sketch out ideas that seemed to swirl from the page and cover them both in the soft blanket of his voice. Rachel sat beside him and leaned into him, sleepy and cold. "He can talk, can't he," she whispered.

    "Yeah," Raylan admitted. "He can."

-    


	10. 8:58 a.m./88 days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raylan's has a three steps forward, two steps back sort of thing going on; introductions are made.

8:58 a.m.

88 days

 

    The name he gave was James Bell Ward, and he shook Raylan's hand like he'd just arrived to a business meeting that he was more than prepared for. His scraggly red beard was covered in flakes of snow, but his face had a healthy flush to it like the cold was something he'd grown accustomed to. Raylan wondered how long you had to be out in this shit before that happened. "Glad we could all put our weapons down and talk."

    Rachel's hand still lingered on her gun, holstered at her side. "You did come up on us with no warning."

    "In my defense, we thought this area was pretty much all ours," James said, moving his knitted hat back off his eyebrows. They were red too, thick and wild. "When did you folks set up here?"

    "Couple days ago. Funny we didn't see you on our way in," Rachel said.

    "Well, we've been out here a while now." He offered his hand to Rachel now, and she shook it after a moment's consideration. "We're not so bad at blending in. You, on the other hand," he continued, gesturing towards their setup, "are doing one hell of a job standing out."

    "We're a colorful bunch," Weston said dryly. 

    "Is this all of you?" James asked, putting a hand on his hip and glancing to his right through the trees.

    Raylan caught Rachel's eye and shrugged his shoulders just enough for her to see. There seemed little point in lying and telling him they were a crew of dozens considering they only had the two tents. "It is," Raylan allowed, adjusting his hat and feeling a bit of snow fall out and onto the shoulders of his coat. "We don't intend to start movin' in on anyone's territory, and we ain't prepared to neither."

    James clapped his hands together once, the muffled sound ringing out loud between still tree trunks and motionless feet. "No reason why you all shouldn't come up and join us. We've been looking for some capable people to fill a few roles around camp and you all look pretty healthy to me. We have plenty of food and room, what do you say?"

    Everyone was silent. Raylan couldn't help feeling curious about this alleged camp but he also knew that it could be nothing but a tempting ruse to lure them to capture or worse. He looked to Rachel and then back to James. "Can you give us a minute?"

    "No problem," James told him, taking a step back and spreading his hands in what Raylan considered a very Boyd-like gesture. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. "Listen, I'm just heading down to check out a couple of our traps, how about I get you all when I come back through?"

    "Sounds good," Raylan replied distractedly. He put a hand on Rachel's arm and closed towards her as Jiya, Weston, and Boyd stepped in to discuss their options.

    Weston was the first to speak. "I'm for it. Look, we do  _not_  have the food to last a whole lot longer out here."

    "And if it's a trap?" Boyd pointed out, speaking what was on everyone's minds. Or at least on Raylan's.

    Still, "If he's got folks waiting to cause us trouble why not bring them out and hold us up now?" Raylan asked. "Not like we're exactly holed up in a compound here."

    "I agree," Rachel chimed in, rubbing her hands together to warm them. 

    Jiya hesitated before speaking. She leaned back and glanced around them at the bark illuminated by the early morning sunlight. Finally she said, "Worst case scenario, at least we will know what we're up against. If it is a trap, won't they just come back tonight and pick us off as we sleep?"

    Raylan nodded. "So we go."

    Everyone looked alright with this except for maybe Boyd, whose face was uneasy but who didn't push the issue. They took the time to pack up, figuring they might as well take everything with them, and Weston kicked snow over the fire until it was nothing but a faint line of smoke. They were ready by the time James came back through, dragging an impressive sled of dead animal behind him. "What do you say?"

    "We'll take you up on your offer. At least come and check out your work," Raylan said.

    James smiled and swung an arm forward. "Away we go then."

-

    The camp was real, and it was big. Raylan cataloged everything he could see and tried to count out a rough estimate of how many people were there as the woman in front of him took his temperature. She'd given him her name as Dr. Rowan, and with her blonde hair pulled back in a severe knot and glasses halfway up her nose she certainly carried herself in the manner Raylan expected of a physician. James was talking Weston's ear off a few yards away, and Raylan figured that between them as new arrivals and the rest of the folks already settled they had to make a group of thirty-five or forty. "Got yourself quite the community out here."

    "That we do," Rowan agreed, checking his ear with one of them little devices. "A couple of our friends left to go north not long ago so we're glad we came across you. Well, I can't speak for everyone, but I am and James sure looks delighted."

    "He a nice guy?" Raylan asked plainly. The time for skirting around those sorts of questions was over. 

    She gave him back his coat and he took it gladly, surprised and pleased by how warm it really was keeping him. "I like him. He's our de facto sort of leader here and he does a good job. Everyone's fed, everyone has a place to sleep... these days that's a miracle all on its own."

    "You ain't wrong there."

    "Where's your accent from? I noticed you guys talking pretty southern."

    Raylan laughed, picking his hat up and shaking the snow out of it. "Well, me'n Boyd are from Kentucky, originally, although I spent a good chunk of time in Florida."

    He realized after he'd said it that he'd phrased it sort of weird. He went to correct himself, but Rowan was already asking, "How long have you two been married?" Raylan rubbed his forehead, and looked mortified. "Oh God, what did I say?"

    "Nothing," he told her, raising that same hand. "It's my own fault, I said that sorta funny. We ain't... we're just uh... well, it's complicated. Not because- I used to be a lawman. That's how we got to know each other. Sort of a business-type situation."

    "A lawman? Like a cop?"

    "Like a cop," Raylan replied, reaching under his scarf and scratching the back of his neck. "I was with the U.S. Marshal Service actually."

    Rowan raised her eyebrows, folding her arms over her chest. She nodded towards James. "Better let him know. He'll be delighted."

    "Will do."

    He passed Jiya on his way to talk to James, and she beamed like she'd just won the lottery. She grabbed both his hands and he gave her an amused smile, swinging them. "What?"

    "They have a whole map apparently. A huge one, like the small one I was working on but so much better. James said they would love for me to help with it."

    "Hey, that's great." She looked so happy that Raylan figured he wouldn't bother her with anything else. "Go navigate your heart out."

    James patted Weston on the arm as Raylan approached, spreading his other arm wide. "Hey! Raylan, right?"

    "So they say. West, you seen Rachel?"

    Weston took a look around, then pointed towards a picnic table where a few people had gathered to eat. "She's over there. Guess there's a bunch of ex-cops- she'd met one before, in the old days."

    Rachel gave Raylan half a wave and went back to her conversation. Raylan didn't recognize anyone but her (and thanked God it wasn't Nelson), so he turned his attention back to Weston. "And Boyd?"

    "He was next after you for a medical check."

    "Alright."

    Weston knocked Raylan lightly on the shoulder and zipped up his coat. "I'll leave you two to chat and go get myself a fuckin' steak."

    "So West there tells me you were a  _marshal_ , huh."

    Raylan settled his hands on his hips, leaning against the tree next to him. "Your doc seemed to find that a matter of interest as well."

    "Well, if you decide to stick around, it should come in handy. Never met a marshal who wasn't fast on his feet." James touched his eyebrow and smiled. "I used to do some transport work. Prisons and stuff."

    "If I can be of service you just let me know," Raylan told him. He tilted his head down, looking at James's winter boots and making a note to see if someone had a pair he could borrow. "Trying to keep us awful busy, huh."

    James grinned almost sheepishly. He took his hat off and rubbed the top of his head. His hair was very short and he reminded Raylan more of a military man than a truck driver. "Hey, you caught me. Can't help myself. For such a small group you guys sure know your stuff. Speaking of which, what's the lowdown on the dude with the black hair?"

    If Raylan had a dime for every time someone had asked him a similar question, he would have had a whole pile of completely useless money. "He, uh... you oughta ask him that yourself."

    "He's not a very chatty guy."

    "I wish you were right," Raylan sighed. "But the uh, short version of the story is he used to run drugs in parts of Kentucky. Fancied himself quite the outlaw."

    "Really now." James looked almost impressed. 

    "Really now." 

    "Is he still much of a...?"

    "Shit-kicker?" Raylan guessed, smiling. "Not so much these days, it don't seem. But I ain't his keeper, just so you know."

    James waved to someone who called his name, then said to Raylan, "I hear you loud and clear. Hey, I gotta go deal with whatever Stan wants but I'll catch you in a bit, alright? Oh- ask Rowan about where you're sleeping. Assuming you're staying."

    "Far as I know," Raylan said. "And James- thank you."

    "No problem."

    It put Raylan at ease seeing how organized everything was. He made his way slowly back towards the medical tent, not even minding the wind on his face. Seeing everyone working together and eating real food was comforting and borderline nostalgic. He was halfway there when Boyd stopped him, getting up from a log and making his way over to him. "Raylan, a word?"

    "Yeah." He stopped, surprised. Boyd had barely acknowledged him since he'd lost his temper on him after the fire. "What's up?"

    Boyd put his hands in his jacket, eyes fixed on a spot over Raylan's shoulder and mouth a thin line. "I don't trust this place."

    "Jesus Christ." Raylan pushed his hat back and scrubbed his face with his hands. "You just got a problem with everything. Didn't you argue against the Great Lakes because you wanted to go down to some community? Well here's your community."

    "I realize that, but-"

    "I don't wanna hear it, Boyd. Let's be honest with each other here, alright? You don't like this place because it's obvious they got a whole command system and you fuckin' hate having to follow the rules. Well suck it up."

    Boyd waited a moment, clucked his tongue. "You finished?"

    "Yep."

    "It's not that this is a community, it's that I get a bad feelin' about it. Especially about your new pal over there, James. Even you got to think this is too good to be true."

    Raylan squinted out to where Jiya was leaning over a table with a couple of other people, drawing lines on a map, to Weston eating food off an actual plate, to Rachel patting a portly man on the back and smiling. "So you don't like it here," he said flatly.

    Boyd mulled it over. "I don't. I think we oughta play this smarter and take a step back."

    "Well," Raylan said, shrugging helplessly, "if you don't like it, feel free to leave."

    Boyd's brow softened and he frowned a little. He licked his lips and took a step back, taking his hands out of his pockets and letting them hang at his sides. "Alright."

    Raylan was thrown by Boyd backing down. He had a sudden impulse to step forward and grab him, but he let him go and walked off into the snow. Boyd wasn't his problem now.

-


	11. 3:48 p.m./90 days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raylan reminisces; Boyd is not so easily impressed.

3:48 p.m.

90 days

 

    James grew on Raylan substantially. Some of the things he said reminded him a little of Tim, making Raylan wonder once again if the man had a military background he had chosen not to mention. He made sure everyone got enough to eat, checked in on the couple of kids at the camp (Raylan purposely avoided introducing himself to the families knowing full well that he'd start thinking on his own baby), made fast friends with Rachel who wasn't always quick to like someone. There was always a big fire going and Raylan didn't exactly hate sitting beside it and eating venison while James asked him about some of the work he'd done as a marshal. Between the fire and the food it was easy to forget that winter had come so quick and so harsh.

    "Did you know you always wanted to be a marshal?" James asked, tossing a couple of berries in his mouth.

    "No," Raylan laughed. "No, I didn't. Wanted to be a baseball pro for a while."

    "No shit. What was your batting average?"

    "Three-fifteen." He was almost surprised he still knew that.

    James whistled low and crossed his ankles out in front of him. "Impressive."

    Boyd was sitting a ways away, probably out of earshot. He still hadn't chosen to leave, so Raylan figured he couldn't hate it in the camp that much. Boyd had, back when Raylan still played, come to all of his games. He'd always caught him in the stands somewhere or leaning by the fence, hollering loud as ever any time Raylan's bat connected with the ball. Boyd had been there the day Raylan had swung on Dickie Bennett. He'd done Raylan's homework for him for a week. "I just liked playing. Something to do, I s'pose. Did you ever play?"

    James shook his head. "Just little league."

    "Shame."

    "Nah, I wasn't any good at it. What about you, Weston? Any sports?"

    Weston looked up from his plate and blinked. "Oh. No. I was a total fuckin' geek."

    The only thing about the camp that gave Raylan a small shred of doubt was the women. Raylan had gotten to talking to a few of them, and he liked them no problem. He just noticed that most of the cooking and picking up seemed to be women's work, and there was something he couldn't quite put his finger on that seemed off. The way they looked at each other, maybe. But Jiya and Rachel seemed happy enough and he figured if they had any objections to the way the men were acting, they'd say something. Rachel certainly never hesitated to speak up.

    Ultimately, it probably wasn't really his business. He figured maybe it was the result of the way civilization had broken down towards the end; the fundamentalist groups that had swelled in size and the advocating they'd done to "put women back in their place". It had made Raylan's skin crawl and he imagined he'd feel a lot worse about it if he weren't a man. Maybe it was the norm, the wariness in their faces. Maybe he just hadn't noticed only being around Jiya and Rachel for so long.

    He kept meaning to talk it over with Rachel but she seemed so busy. That was weird too, them not being such a tight-knit group anymore already. Raylan had never exactly been a social butterfly. Tim had teased him about that an awful lot because he was a hermit himself and knew Raylan wouldn't take it personally. But he did better in small groups, felt most comfortable when he knew everyone well and didn't have to guess at social norms and conversations. He kept finding himself sticking near James like he was a kid and James was the teacher, lingering near him with a lack of confidence that drove him nuts. If James had noticed he didn't say a thing about it though. Raylan's going routine had changed from thinking about survival all day to having a proper breakfast and sitting with James to talk security, and he found it was a significant improvement. 

    James brought him in on things like sniper postings, guards, keeping their food supply protected. It did in fact keep Raylan busy and gave him some purpose, a comforting sense of stability. Boyd on the other hand stayed on the fringes of the camp, seeming not to deal with any one person in particular. Raylan wondered how much time would pass before he'd be expected to pitch in and wondered if Boyd would leave then, if he was just biding his time. There had been a time when Boyd had been happy living in the woods and running weapons and meth-heads. But Boyd being stubborn wasn't Raylan's problem, and he was glad of that. 

    Raylan handed off his plate when a lady offered to take it, thanking her and tipping his hat. When James was done chatting with the man on his other side, Raylan asked, "You grow up in Michigan?"

    "More or less," James replied, tilting his head. "My mom was Cambodian by birth but she moved over here before I was born. She passed away last year."

    "I'm sorry," Raylan said. He thought of his own mama briefly, then pushed away the thought.

    "Oh, I'm fine. We were never all that close. I preferred my father."

    Raylan smiled slightly. "Was the other way around for me. Day my daddy died was like a weight was lifted off me I'd been carrying since I was born. Hated him the moment I was old enough to get what a piece of shit he was. He started beating on me 'fore I could walk, so it wasn't long."

    "Sounds like a bastard," James declared. He raised his glass to Raylan. "To dysfunctional families."

    "And leaving 'em behind," Raylan agreed. He raised his glass back and James laughed, clinking it with his.

    "Hey, you gonna fill me in on the story with you and Crowder, or am I just going to assume your business dealings were you being a crooked cop?"

    Raylan snorted and took a slow drink of his beer. "We weren't exactly business partners. He was just a fugitive I was hunting for a good while."

    "So why are you partnered up now?"

    A shrug was the best explanation Raylan could muster. "We knew each other growing up. Always just been... one of those things. You got anyone like that?"

    "A thorn in my side? Can't say I do," James grinned. "Unless you count the one coyote who's always stealing from my traps. And that's a one way thing."

    "I didn't say it was a good reason," Raylan admitted, smiling wryly. "I don't know. The others get along with him well, seems."

    James considered him carefully. "Is it just me or does he totally fucking hate me?"

    "He..." Raylan downed the rest of his drink. "He's the way he is. He didn't have a ton of friends 'fore all this and I doubt he ever will."

-

    Trudging towards his tent that night, Raylan could see from a distance that someone was waiting for him. "About time," Rachel said.

    She was sitting with Weston, Jiya, and Boyd, all gathered outside his tent. Raylan raised one eyebrow at her and took his hat off. "I miss something?"

    "Ask him," she said, gesturing to Boyd. 

    Raylan sighed heavily. He tossed his hat inside the tent and ran his hand through his hair, sitting down beside Rachel and locking his hands between his knees. "What, Boyd?"

    "Do you see any vehicles around here?" Boyd asked.

    Raylan could tell he had a point to make and wished he'd just get to it without all the nonsense. He was tired and didn't feel like talking anymore. "No. And?"

    "I took a look at James's tent today. There has got to be a good ten bottles of gasoline around back of it. Another ten empty."

    "So we're gathered here so you can tell us you spied on James and found out he's good at maintaining the bonfire?" Raylan couldn't help being scathing. It was that kind of a night.

    Boyd leaned closer. "You seen him add any to that fire? We don't need no Goddamn gasoline to keep it going. That ain't what he's using it for."

    "Boyd, skip to the point," Rachel begged. Raylan could have kissed her.

    "My point is, what if he's the one who started the fire back in town?" Boyd theorized, eyes wide and flitting between them. "This camp certainly ain't hurtin' for supplies."

    "Jesus," Raylan breathed. He took a second, gritted his teeth, then continued, "They're loaded because there's fuckin' forty of 'em. You know how much shit we could get done with that much manpower? Fuck, that we are getting done."

    "I gotta go with Raylan," Weston agreed. "I don't think it's all that unusual."

    "If this is all, I'm going to bed," Jiya informed them. She stood and stretched, reaching up to take her hair from its elastic.

    Boyd rubbed the corner of his eye and sighed. "Rachel, certainly you see sense, I know you a clever woman."

    Rachel hesitated. She screwed up her face in thought, then decided, "Look, I've been pretty careful asking around camp about things. I think you might be a little paranoid here."

    "Paranoid- am I the only one left with any survival instincts?" Boyd demanded. 

    "Boyd, would you just- drop it?" Raylan felt like they'd had so many variations of this conversation. "West, Rach- go on to bed, I need a second with Boyd."

    Rachel clapped him on the back and left, Weston shrugging and following after her. Raylan waited until their conversation faded into the dark then stared hard at Boyd. "I hope to God no one saw you snooping around his shit."

    "That's really your concern here?" Boyd asked, looking like he just couldn't believe it. "Suppose I'm right. How you gonna feel knowing we fell in with a fucking murderer?"

    "Keep your voice down," Raylan snapped. "Christ- I told you if you think this place ain't for you to leave. But don't drag the rest of us down with you. I don't need this, alright?"

    "You don't need this? Why, Raylan, why didn't you just tell me?"

    "You mind taking this serious?"

    "Me?" Boyd laughed humorlessly. "How about you take me serious for once in your life?"

    Raylan let out a breath he'd been holding. He shook his head. "Boyd, I ain't doing this. Not anymore. Look, I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong impression-"

    "Oh for fuck's- it ain't about that!"

    "Then what's it about?"

    "I'm right about this," Boyd insisted. He stood and pointed a finger at him. "When I prove it and you feel a fool, you know where to find me to apologize."

    Raylan laughed out loud as well, leaning back and staring up at him. "Yeah, I'm real sorry I ain't in on your conspiracy theories. Already feelin' a deep sense of regret."

    "Bite me," Boyd told him.

    "Yeah, fuck you too."

    Raylan went to bed moments later, throwing himself down on top of the bedroll and covering his eyes with his hands. He waited for his brain to slow down and realized he was a little drunk. He wondered how many beers he'd had around the fire, then reveled in how cool it was that he'd had an evening of drinking and talking with folks that was enjoyable enough he couldn't remember. Arguing with Boyd had made his heart race and he wished, as he so often had lately, that things were simpler between them. He thought about all he'd left out when James had asked about their relationship. Playing with Boyd when they were small; chasing him through the trees as kids; his heart picking up when Boyd came by the batting cage, smiling at him through the steel and making him miss the next ball; eighteen and making out with him in the backseat of his truck, Boyd pushing and pulling at him like it was a fight; Boyd pulling him free of the mine, hand so tight in his that Raylan was sure he was hurting him; shooting Boyd across the table in the old house he'd known growing up. When he looked at Boyd now he saw all that history and every time he did he tried to pretend it didn't matter.

    It did matter.

    He knew Boyd as well as Boyd had ever known a book, as well as he'd known where all the constellations were and explained their stories to him with his head soft on Raylan's chest. He knew Boyd resented him for a thousand reasons, but he figured that chief among them was the fact that he'd left him behind. He couldn't help wondering if that was what he was doing now, letting Boyd theorize on crazy shit, popping pills alone in his tent. Maybe that was another way of leaving someone behind. 

    If it was, leave it to Raylan to have found it.

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my posting schedule has slowed down a little but considering it was ~2 chapters a day i'm sure y'all will forgive me. i just got so many pumpkins to carve.


	12. 1:08 a.m./92 days

1:08 a.m.

92 days

 

    It took Raylan a second to process what he was looking at before he drew his own gun nice and slow from its holster, holding it low at his side. "Alright, here's how this is gonna go. You're gonna put your weapon down, and then all three of us are gonna have a talk about what the fuck's going on here."

    "Well ain't it grand you got plans like that, but I got to say-" Boyd paused, gun hand unwavering. "You made it clear 'nough that I'm alone in this, so I plan on hanging on to this weapon. I'm sure you understand, Raylan."

    James stood motionless with his hands halfway raised. His eyes flicked to Raylan. "How's it going tonight?"

    "Was going alright," Raylan decided. "How about we try this on for size, see how it suits you. Someone tells me what the fuck's going on and then we talk about putting down our guns. James, how 'bout you take your turn first?"

    James breathed in slowly, his chest rising and falling. He seemed reluctant to look away from Boyd's gun pointed at him, but he kept an eye on Raylan as well. "I was just coming back to my tent after cleaning up a little, I was helping out the women."

    Boyd laughed loud at that, and Raylan took a pointed step closer. "James," he said, "go on."

    "Anyway, I caught Crowder here going through my shit. He already had some stuff from the medical tent- pills I think, in the bag there- and when I confronted him, he drew on me."

    Raylan would have prayed for that not to be true but he wasn't much of a praying man these days. Instead he looked to Boyd. "Your turn."

    Boyd clenched his jaw, took a deep breath of his own. "After you told me to go fuck myself, Raylan, I did some investigatin' of my own. There is a shed on the outskirts of this camp- not too far away, I went looking for it after I noticed it on the maps Jiya was working on. The shit-" Boyd steadied himself. "The shit he's got going on is something evil, Raylan. He's got rabids back there, sick women tied up with their bottom jaws gone. And don't you try an' tell me that mound of snow beside it ain't a mass grave, ain't no other fuckin' reason for the snow to be disturbed like that."

    "What the fuck are you talking about?" James asked, eyes wide and lips parted in a dumbfounded gape. "Are you talking about the storage shed- all that's in there's fucking shovels!"

    "Boyd," Raylan said slowly, choosing his words carefully, "tell me you ain't stoned right now."

    "Who do you think you to ask me- boy I oughta- how about this, huh?" Boyd switched the gun to one hand and held it steady while he reached into his coat. He pulled a photo out of his pocket and held it up. "Why you got this, huh Mr. Ward?"

    "What is it?" Raylan asked. Christ, now there were props for this fucking show. He stepped forward and snatched it from Boyd's hand, holding it in the light of the lantern on the table next to them. He dimly recognized Talia's face, and Dimitri's, maybe Chrissie's. His mind raced as he went through the possibilities. "How'd you get a hold of this, Boyd?"

    "Ask him. It was in his dresser," Boyd said.

    James still looked baffled. "Look, I don't know who these people are, but if something happened to them and someone from the camp was involved we'll get to the bottom of it. I have no idea what-"

    "Bullshit!" Boyd yelled. "You say one more word and you gonna be joining her in the afterlife, ain't no way-"

    Taking a step back, Raylan raised his gun again, letting the photo fall to the ground in stark contrast on the snow. "Boyd, put the gun down."

    "Raylan, tell me you suddenly got yourself a good sense of humor."

    "How do I know you didn't take it? Put the gun down."

    James licked his lips. "Raylan?" he prompted. "You, Jiya, Weston, Rachel- you can all stay. But I think I have to ask that Crowder here goes. I can tolerate a lot of shit but I can't have some stoned maniac waving a gun around when we have kids in these tents. We're family here."

    Raylan couldn't exactly blame him, or argue the point. "Boyd-"

    "Fuck it," Boyd snapped. "You want me gone? Gladly. Raylan, you can round up the others and come with me or you can take the word of this sociopath you known five minutes over mine."

    It seemed unreal that Raylan was the one he was pissed at now. He took a step forward and snatched the gun from Boyd in a practiced move that seemed to take him aback. "You're the one putting me in this fucking position, asshole. You asking me to pick sides? Then I'm betting on the winning team."

    There was a moment of silence between them all, Boyd's face flushed with anger, and then Boyd picked the bag up from at his feet and turned fully towards him. "I wish your attitude towards me would become routine enough that I'd stop finding it all so shocking," he hissed. "But it is still incredible to me the lengths you'll go to to deny every word I utter."

    Raylan waited until he'd left and then pushed the safety on both guns, holstering one and recognizing the other from Weston's stash of guns. "Fuck, James."

    "What the hell? I knew he didn't like me, but that seemed a little extreme, right?"

    Raylan picked the photo up and pocketed it, feeling uncomfortable holding on to it but unwilling to leave it in the snow. "I don't know what he's doing but I'm sorry, I truly am."

    "Not your fault."

    "I brought him into your camp."

    James found himself a bottle of water and tossed one Raylan's way. "If he was your dog getting into our food I wouldn't blame you either."

    Raylan sighed, watching James roll his shoulders and crack his neck. "You alright if I head back to my tent? I gotta..."

    "Yeah, go ahead."

    Raylan wound up having to sit outside his tent drinking water for a good fifteen minutes before Boyd walked up to him. He'd figured he would and had figured there was no point in going back to bed until Boyd said his piece. Boyd dropped packed bags at his feet and stood with gloved hands in his pockets. "Well?" Raylan said, waiting for him to rant and rave.

    "I'm going, don't you worry," Boyd snapped. "I have something to say to you first."

    "Yeah, I figured. Let's get this over with." Raylan sounded more bitter than he even felt, and he felt pretty damn bitter.

    Boyd was quiet for a second. He looked up at the starry sky, then back down to Raylan, and his voice was calmer than he'd expected. "I never believed in kissing someone if they thought you'd just as soon hit them. I keep asking myself if that's why you've been such a bastard to me, because I kissed you when you slammed me up against that dresser."

    Raylan closed his eyes momentarily, thrown by the unexpected response. He could think of nothing to say but, "Do you really think I give a fuck that I was mad when you kissed me?"

    "Well," Boyd spread his arms wide, fingers splayed, "then I don't know what it is I did and I figure I don't care. I..." He wiped a hand over his mouth, shaking his head a bit. "Have loved you since the day you were born. I've loved you every second and hated every second that you looked back at me with nothing in them eyes of yours but disappointment and disgust. I've loved you so much- but there is no way in hell that I'm'a sit around here mourning the chance of being loved by you, losing respect for myself knowing that every day I pine for you is one more day that passes by where you don't respect me or trust me. I know- you never thought I was worth a damn but I miss when I thought you did."

    Raylan opened his mouth without thinking, but Boyd cut him off and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a folding knife and held the handle out to him. "Take it," he said, and Raylan did. And then, "Goodbye, Raylan. I pray you come to your senses about this place before harm befalls you, and I pray your stubbornness ain't your downfall."

    He watched Boyd take his bags and leave, feet crunching through the snow as he made his way out of the clearing. Raylan just watched him go. There had been for decades an unspoken rule that they'd never voice what was between them, what had been between them, and in an instant Boyd had broken that rule and told him he loved him and left all at the same time. When Boyd was nothing but a shadow on the snow, Raylan looked down at the knife he was holding. It was familiar, the handle worn but the blade sharp. He ran his thumb down the blade and remembered then, handing it to Boyd who knew how long ago now.

    Before the country had fallen down around them he'd lost his fair share of people. His mama, his aunt Helen. In most ways, Winona. When things went to shit he'd lost Tim too, lost his baby daughter, lost his job and home and sense of who the fuck he even was. And now after all those years of trying to get rid of him, he'd managed to lose Boyd too.

    It hit him abruptly- the realization that if there were even the slimmest of slim chances that Boyd had told the truth, that he'd both betrayed him deeply and also put the rest of their lives at risk. He liked James but as he sat there he wondered a simple thing: why hadn't James made Boyd leave the pills behind?

    He'd given Boyd the knife for his nineteenth birthday, told him he wanted him to have something to protect himself- from your daddy, he didn't say. What he did say was, You won't need it with me around. And Boyd had kissed him soundly underneath the dark night sky, one hand holding tight to Raylan's like he planned on never letting him go. 

    And maybe these days he didn't owe Boyd a whole lot, but maybe he owed it to himself to at least get a couple of questions answered.

    It was a slow walk back to James's tent, the snow thick and halfway to his knees. Raylan folded the knife up into his pocket, breathing in cold air through his nose, wishing for a bottle of good old Kentucky bourbon. It was one of the things he really truly missed. Ice cream too.

    As he got within eyesight of James's tent he realized he could see him with another person. He stopped a moment and lowered himself behind the table between him and the figures in the dark. He recognized the woman James was with by her voice, which he could just barely hear as it drifted by him on the wind. Rowan was pleading over and over, the same words, and they shook Raylan to his core: "Please don't make me like the rest of them. Please don't make me like the rest of them."

    He chanced getting caught and ducked his head around the edge of the table to watch as James hit her hard across the face. He knew it was James, could tell from his build and his height and his voice when he said, "Don't make me."

    Raylan's instinct was to grab his gun and stop him, but he forced himself to stay still. He didn't know how many people in the camp knew that this was going on, how many of the men could surround him at the drop of his hat. He watched as James shoved her away from him and Rowan sobbed, stumbling through the snow still pleading, "I'll do better next time. I'll be good."

    Raylan waited until he saw her leave somewhat safely, James calling her a 'stupid bitch' but letting her go, Rowan falling a couple of times as she made her way through the snow and out of sight. Once James ducked inside his tent, Raylan pushed himself up and made his own way carefully out of sight, heart hammering. Before he could do anything about this he had to find Boyd before he was gone so far in the dark that Raylan would never find him again. 

    He found his flashlight and attached it to his belt, taking the clip from Weston's gun but leaving the actual gun behind. He preferred his own. It was a unique hell trying to get through the snow with any kind of speed, like running through water, but at least the snow held tracks of Boyd's boots. He took his flashlight out as the faint glow from the camp dimmed behind him, the cold air hurting his lungs when he breathed in too hard. He wondered how far Boyd had made it through the woods and if he was too late, and forced himself to think otherwise. He'd tracked people every day as a marshal, followed convicts and fugitives and felons through the mountains and farmlands and marshes. He'd followed Boyd before. He could do it again.

    Boyd's footprints became muddled a ways in, and Raylan held the flashlight out in front of him, sweeping it through the trees as he made his way. He ducked under a tree branch and almost hit the next one with his face, swearing under his breath. He stumbled through the snow further, wondering if he'd lost him entirely, and then- distantly, someone moving through the trees. He stopped where he was and whistled. There was the low sound of rustling through dry leaves and evergreen branches, and then Boyd emerged before him. "What are you-"

    "I need you," Raylan said before he could lose his nerve.

    Boyd laughed at him, an unhappy laugh that made him look wild all back-lit by the moon. His teeth were bright in the shadow. "Fuck-"

    "I believe you." He swallowed hard, taking one more step through the snow. "Boyd, I believe you. I saw him- he ain't the way he seemed. I know that much."

    Boyd stared at him, expression dark, and Raylan tried not to blind him with the flashlight. "Well, I don't frankly care if you believe me or you don't, Raylan."

    Raylan pinched the bridge of his nose, and started forward when Boyd turned to leave. He caught him by the wrist and Boyd whirled around on him, looking furious. Before Boyd could snap at him he said, words almost choking him, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for accusing you of trying to set us up back with Crowe."

    "That was-"

    "I'm sorry for calling you a junkie. I'm sorry for shoving you. I'm sorry I blamed you for Talia dying in the fire. I'm sorry I didn't thank you for saving my life. I'm sorry for not listening when you told me something was wrong, and I'm sorry for tonight, for taking the word of someone I didn't know at all over yours when I known you since we was tads. I'm- sorry."

    Boyd looked down at his hand on his wrist, mouth twisting. "I don't think you ever apologized to me for anything before," he whispered.

    "That's a flaw in me," Raylan admitted. "But I mean it."

    Boyd took his wrist back and ran his hand over his hair. He turned and breathed out shakily, staring ahead through the forest. After a moment he said, "I've spent so much time thinking of myself as not being good enough for you, and then I was beginning to think I never owed you anything in the first place. Now here I am taking fistfuls of pills every Goddamn day to ignore the fact that you think I was trying to kill you the day you shot me. How can you be the intelligent man you are and not know that all I wanted was to die by your hand that night?" He paused, dragging his palm over his cheek. "I promise you I always wanted to be a good man. It just never did happen that way, did it?"

    Raylan reached for him again because he couldn't stand not touching him anymore, pulling Boyd over to him and hugging him when he was close enough. He wrapped his arms around him tight and pressed his face to the crook of his neck, and as he stood there in the snow he felt Boyd tentatively fold into him, palms flat on his back. Raylan hugged him tighter, because it was easier than saying something, because it was the only way he knew how to say I'm sorry again. "What'chu think, you ever gonna be able to look at me without seeing the wrong I done?" Boyd whispered.

    Raylan pulled back slowly and caught his face with his hands, the flashlight pointed up at the black sky. He ran his thumb underneath Boyd's eye, over his damp skin. "Come back to camp with me. Help me pack," he asked. And then, "When I look at you that's not what I see. I see all the time I ever known you and how much I... how much you- mean to me."

    Boyd nodded, face screwed up with the effort of not crying in front of him. Raylan touched his forehead to Boyd's for a moment, then stroked his cheek again and pulled away. "Let's go. You can help me get my stuff together, then we'll wake the others."

    Boyd went with him, filling Raylan with a hope that seemed to light their footprints the whole way back.

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> few notes real quick for anyone interested:  
> i'm gonna divide this up into a couple of parts and part 1 wound up being a total of 16 chapters  
> a heads up that the rating on this fic will eventually change from M to E  
> and if anyone wants to be an angel and beta-read for me in the future: plasticitiesun@gmail.com   
> or we can just chat, man, it's all good


	13. 2:34 a.m./92 days

2:34 a.m.

92 days

 

    They packed quietly, and it felt like a somber affair. Raylan could already feel himself mourning the promise of a safe community, but he put a pin in it and told himself he could deal with it another time. He rolled up a shirt and looked over his shoulder at Boyd, catching his hands shaking as he carefully tucked Raylan's things into a water-resistant bag. He abandoned the shirt and stopped Boyd with a hand on his shoulder, catching his attention to look him in the eyes. "Are you okay?"

    Boyd closed his eyes and nodded. Raylan saw the worry still etched in lines in his face and wanted badly to kiss him, but he didn't dare. He didn't know where they stood now, and he couldn't help thinking that it would be wrong to kiss him now when they were both so on edge. Instead he ran his hand down Boyd's arm and squeezed him at his elbow, and Boyd asked, "What's your plan now? Do we wake the others and just leave?"

    Raylan thought of Rowan, thought of the other women and what Boyd had told him about the shed. "We can't just leave everyone else. There's a lot of folks here who don't deserve whatever the hell he's doing to them."

    "Do you always got to be so selfless?" Boyd asked, but there was a wisp of a smile on his face. 

    Raylan touched his wrist and let him go, turning back to his things. He took a couple of clips from his pocket and ran a tally of how many bullets he had on him through his head. When he was done he leaned forward, placing both hands on the table and licking his lips. "Boyd?"

    "What is it, Raylan?"

    He didn't turn to look at him, feeling an anxious stirring in his chest that he had trouble ignoring. He didn't want to start another fight, but, "I just gotta know for sure. If you lied about any part of what you said back there, about what you found out James was doing- I ain't gonna be mad at you. I just gotta know."

    Boyd crossed over and stood beside him. He hooked one finger over Raylan's pinky and when he spoke he sounded awfully like he might cry. Instead he just whispered, "I swear that every word I said was the God's honest truth as I know it to be. I can take you to the shed if you need, if you want to see-"

    "You don't gotta do that," Raylan interrupted. He chanced a look at him, and Boyd lifted his head and looked back at him. "You don't gotta prove yourself anymore. I believe you."

    Boyd let out a shaky breath and nodded, then squeezed Raylan's hand gently before letting go. "Thank you."

    "We gotta get going."

    "I know," Boyd murmured, but neither of them moved.

    The desire to kiss him was back. Raylan thought they might have enough time for a quick roll in the hay, thought he could get Boyd up on the table and kiss him senseless. But the idea that that might screw things up again between them was too strong in his mind for him to risk it, not tonight anyway. He straightened up and closed his eyes, then opened them and picked up his bag. "Let's go."

    They hadn't so much as reached for the zipper when a small scream reached them, cut off abruptly and sickeningly fast. They exchanged a look and Raylan hesitated, then pulled out Weston's gun and loaded it. He held it out to Boyd. "I'll feel better if I know you're armed."

    Boyd tested the weight of the gun now back in his hand. He looked at him with a funny bit of a smile. "Sure you trust me with this thing? Confident I ain't gonna shoot you?"

    "I wouldn't say confident," Raylan teased. He felt a lot calmer when Boyd laughed, the sound making him confident enough after all to steady his hands and prepare him to stage this nightmare of a coup.

-

    James looked surprised when Raylan drew on him. He raised his eyebrows, one hand still twisted in Rowan's hair as she knelt before him. "Raylan?"

    "I'm gon' need you to take your hands off the doctor there pal."

    James took his hand out of her hair but didn't raise it. He licked his lips slowly, eyes taking in Raylan's stance and gun. "We were just-"

    "Havin' a nice conversation?" Raylan drawled, watching Rowan sit down on her heels in the snow and stare into the middle distance. "Looks like it."

    James's hand twitched towards his hip, but Boyd stepped out from behind a tree, raising his gun behind James. "Uh-uh, James. Seems to me you overplayed your hand. Why don't you go ahead and show my friend Raylan Givens your hands?"

    Raking his teeth angrily over his upper lip, James raised his hands slowly for the second time that night. Raylan waited until they were above his shoulders then said, "Boyd, would you mind relieving James of his weapon?"

    "I wouldn't mind at all," Boyd replied, grinning from ear to ear. God, was his smile ever striking. He approached James and shoved his coat out of the way, pulling the gun out of his waistband and popping out the clip. He tossed the empty gun at Raylan's feet. "I imagine he feels a lot lighter now."

    "I'd imagine so," Raylan agreed. He waited until Boyd was back in place, then tipped his hat to James. "I oughta commend you on doing a damn good job of acting like you ain't a creep."

    James considered him. "Now, I guess since you were a marshal and all you feel like you should step in here. But if you put your gun down, I think we could work this out. It's not a bad gig, working for me."

    "I got to say, I never did care for being anyone's employee. How about you, Boyd?" 

    "There's a reason I was so often gainfully self-employed," Boyd informed them. He was clearly enjoying himself, and it gave Raylan a sort of thrill. "And unlike James here I prefer not to bed rabid animals, so I don't believe he has much to offer me."

    "I can give you live women," James offered, like he was offering to trade lunches with him. "Take Rowan."

    Raylan gritted his teeth, but Boyd answered for them both: "The fact that you think these women are for your offerin' is one of the bigger problems we got here, James."

    Raylan made a face to communicate his siding with Boyd on the matter, and James sighed, shrugged, looked unbothered. "Alright," he said. "Can't say I didn't offer. You know- it is kind of funny to me that you think this little plan of yours is gonna go anywhere. Do you know how many people in this camp will do what I ask without hesitation?"

    "Why do people like you always think you got some otherworldly power?" Raylan wondered aloud. "Don't answer that, I don't care."

    James looked at Rowan, kicking at her with his foot. "You tell him."

    Rowan sniffled, looked up at James all glassy-eyed and worried. "You're our hero, James. I'll die for you."

    Raylan cocked his gun and raised it enough to make a point. "That's enough. Let's move. Boyd, after you."

    "Such manners," Boyd commented.

    Raylan moved James ahead of him, keeping just enough distance to have a safe line on him. They trudged through the snow and James murmured, "Every man has needs, Raylan."

    "What I need is for you to shut your damn mouth," Raylan told him, keeping a close eye on Boyd as they approached Rachel's tent. He hated Boyd having his back to them, even momentarily. He continued, "You know, Boyd here should'a been a college professor, but I got to say that it's moments like these that make me glad he has the experience to figure your type out a mile away."

    Boyd shot them a smile over his shoulder, slowing when they got close and putting the safety on his gun. He slapped a hand gently against the vinyl side of Rachel's tent and said, "Rachel, wake up. We got us some shit to do."

    There was a moment of rustling, then Rachel unzipped her tent and squinted out into the dark. "What the fuck?"

    Boyd made a sweeping gesture towards Raylan and James. "We're overthrowing the government, you feel like joining us?"

    "Us?" Rachel asked blearily.

    Raylan gave her half a wave, and Rachel mumbled, "Huh." She disappeared back inside the tent and came out with her gun and with Jiya stumbling out into the snow beside her. Raylan raised an eyebrow and Rachel shut him down with a look. "So Boyd was right?"

    "Boyd was right," Raylan said, watching Boyd repeat the process with Weston's tent. "You got enough bullets?"

    "Yeah, I'm good." 

    "This is quite a disappointment," Jiya sighed, face in almost a pout.

    Raylan shrugged at Rachel and she rubbed at her forehead, taking in the situation. After a second she said, "It's really irritating when Boyd's right."

    "No arguments there," Weston said, pulling his coat on and joining them with Boyd not far behind. "So when d-"

    A gunshot rang out so loud that it had to have come from close by. Raylan whipped his head towards the sound, trying to make out where it had come from. The light was behind them though, the expanse before them pitch black. Raylan looked back just as James began to take off, and raised his gun to shoot him, but a second gunshot and a bullet just barely missing his head made him miss. He ducked down, watching everyone run for cover and catching sight of one shooter aimed at Boyd. He aimed and squeezed the trigger, shot lined up between the sights, and watched him crumble. Bullets came at him from three more spots and he swore, firing back into the dark uselessly. He spotted Rachel and mouthed for her to move, and she nodded and whispered at Jiya to scatter. 

    From his right, Weston yelled, "Got one!"

    Raylan took advantage of the second of calm to raise his voice loud enough for everyone to hear. "Scatter. Go north! We'll find each other the way we discussed before. Go!"

    He stood up from behind the table and shot off a bullet in the direction James had gone, but he was no longer even a shadow to them. "Fuck," he hissed. More men were emerging and it was clear they were vastly outnumbered, as they'd dreaded when James had first found them. The last thing Raylan wanted to do was let this go, but as a tree a hair's breadth from Weston lit up with machine gun shells he knew there was no fighting this off. He tried to get an idea of where everyone was, but Weston was the only one he could see. He lowered his gun and made a break for the perimeter of the camp, shooting as he turned and hitting a guy just reaching the area twice in the chest. 

    There was a moment where he considered going after James anyway, but he knew that was a suicide mission. He glanced around again and realized he couldn't see Weston nor see anyone returning fire against the barrage of bullets. Praying he was the last to leave, Raylan backed up into the trees and took off as fast as he could, silently cursing the snow and for once glad the wind was roaring around them.

    He had an okay idea of north but he spent a while going east first, unwilling to wind up too close to James's men. He felt... scared. He wasn't all that used to the feeling. He'd been shot at a thousand times in his life and it had rarely put any sort of fear in him. But the idea of losing Rachel, Jiya, Weston... Boyd, felt unbearable. 

    Hiking through the snow and feeling his heart jump at every scrape of a branch, Raylan counted his steps and prayed for the first time in years.

-


	14. 5:01 a.m./92 days

 

5:01 a.m.

92 days

 

    Raylan let out another low whistle and waited, feeling Boyd's eyes on him. They all fell silent but no reply came through the woods. Raylan took his hat off and ran his hand roughly back and forth through his hair, then settled his hat back on and hissed, "Fuck."

    Weston took a few steps out in front of them and looked up at the sky where the trees parted just enough to see. The sun wasn't rising yet, and the moonlight had abandoned them down below. Jiya said, "This is my fault."

    "No, it's not," Weston assured her, looking away from the sky. "We all split up on purpose."

    "Raylan?" Boyd's voice was a whisper at his side.

    Raylan swallowed and put his hands in his pockets, trying to tell himself that Rachel was fine. She was capable. She was responsible, more than he ever was. There was a good chance they were just so lost that they were still a mile or so away from her. That thought didn't make him feel much better though, the idea that they might stay separated and never find their way back to one another. It was already a miracle that the rest of them had managed to locate each other.

    Rachel had agreed weeks ago that if they ever got split up they'd both head for the first standing shelter, but being in the middle of the woods made that a moot point. "Come on," he mumbled.

    The hike through the snow took a lot out of everyone. The wind covering their tracks and the noise they were making was no longer comforting; it bit at Raylan's exposed skin, made Boyd's teeth chatter, slowed Jiya's footsteps. By the time they approached the bottom of a snow-covered hill, Weston and Jiya were starting to exchange looks that Raylan was pretty certain he could interpret. Weston said, "Raylan... we gotta find somewhere to hole up soon. We don't have tents anymore."

    "We're not leaving Rachel behind," Raylan said plainly.

    "We have no food, no supplies," Jiya reminded him, coming to a stop in the sloping snow. "Boyd?"

    Raylan looked to him. Boyd stared back at him, brow furrowed, and placed a hand soft on his elbow. "I won't tell you what to do again, Raylan. And if you stay out here, I'll stay with you."

    "You will freeze to death out here." Jiya hugged herself against the wind and shook her head. "I want to find Rachel too, but we will not do so stumbling around in the snow until we die of frostbite. What good are we to her dead? At least we should find some shelter first, then talk about coming back out."

    Raylan licked his lips and thought about it. It felt wrong to abandon the search when they'd only been walking a few hours, but he couldn't deny that he was losing feeling in his feet. He looked at Boyd again, then at his hand still touching the sleeve of his coat. "It's up to you," Boyd told him, voice quiet. "I'll follow your lead."

    Had he been on his own, Raylan might have spent the night wandering until he collapsed or found her. But knowing there were other people willing to risk their health for what he decided changed his mind. "Okay," he whispered. It felt like too much of a betrayal to speak it any louder. "Jiya, you got any idea where we should head?"

    "I know the areas they left off their map," she provided. She had her notebook jammed in the pockets of her coat and she took it out and waved it at him. "I believe up this hill there were plans before the sickness to sell plots of land to particularly wealthy Michiganders wanting to live off the grid. Perhaps some of it was developed. The only other option is to go south all the way through the woods and back towards the city, which seems like a poor plan."

    "Go 'head then," Raylan allowed.     

    Boyd took his hand off Raylan's arm and the loss of his touch disappointed him. He wondered how things might have gone between them had circumstances been different. Maybe had Boyd gone to jail, served his time, changed his ways... then again, in Raylan's experience most people never changed. He glanced at Boyd as they followed Jiya up the hill. He couldn't help but wonder- if they slept together, if they kept sleeping together- would Boyd ever be the kind of person he could rely on?

-

    It stood concealed around the roll of a hill, snow piled up to its windows and blanketing its roof. To Raylan it seemed a mirage, and he stood outside staring at the dark front of the house until Boyd came back out for him. He stood in the doorway to the house, foot propping it open to avoid the wind slamming it closed. "You gonna come inside soon, cowboy?"

    "Yeah," Raylan mumbled, forcing his eyes to refocus. He met Boyd's gaze. "Sorry."

    "West's still takin' a look, but we hit the jackpot here. There's a panel in the laundry room that's got him thinking there might be solar panels on the roof. If we clear it off we might be able to turn on some lights."

    Raylan took a breath and started forward, reluctant to go inside but excited about the possibility of warmth. "That's great."

    "And yet, you do not appear to be filled with jubilation," Boyd replied, moving aside to let him enter and closing the door behind them. "There's a wood stove, but we probably oughta leave it until fewer folks are scouring these hills for us."

    "Yeah." Raylan realized he wasn't contributing much to the conversation, but he couldn't muster up any enthusiasm really. 

    The living room was decorated but there was something stilted about it. He ran a hand over the fake leather couch and frowned. Boyd watched him carefully, then said, "I think it's staging furniture out of something akin to Better Homes and Gardens. There's a room that ain't quite finished, and the appliances are immaculate. There ain't really any food but the pantry's got a couple of boxes in it. You want somethin' to eat?"

    "You offering to fix me a plate?" Raylan asked, almost amused despite himself. 

    Weston entered the room before Boyd could answer, smile a glow on its own in the otherwise dark room. He raised his hands, counting off on his fingers. "Septic tank, cistern, backup generator. This place is a Goddamn miracle. I fuckin' love yuppies."

    "A generator- how much power we got?" Boyd asked.

    "Seems like no one ever really used it. I doubt it'll last long until we get those panels cleared off but there's probably enough power to turn on a light every once in a while."

    Raylan had to admit that sounded pretty good. He rubbed his gloved hands together, trying to warm them up. "How about a space heater or something? Think we could turn one of those on?"

    "I can see if they got one anywhere," Boyd offered, tilting his head slightly.

    "No need," Weston interrupted. "The thermostat- you can make it so it only warms one room at a time. Shouldn't be too much of a drain. The water heater's already on."

    "Where's Jiya?" Raylan asked, nervous about anyone being out of his sight.

    "Checking out the bedrooms, making sure there's no bugs. You know how she is."

    Boyd hummed with thought, looking around the room. "We should board these windows up. One story building, it can't take us all that long. We do that, make sure it would make some noise if someone tried to break in, and it oughta be pretty manageable."

    "We could sleep in shifts," Raylan suggested.

    "We're gonna have to get creative with materials, but it's doable. There's some nails and shit in the room that ain't painted," Weston provided.

    Jiya came out to help them, and they moved dressers in front of the back door, covered the windows from room to room. It worked up a sweat which admittedly wasn't a bad thing considering how cold the house was. It was laid out fairly modern and the large living room made Raylan think that it was the kind of house he might have been interested in buying once upon a time. He caught Boyd's eye as they finished the last window and raised his eyebrows a bit. "Not a bad place, huh."

    "You mean architecturally?"

    "I guess."

    "In that case, I abhor it. I'd take a cardboard box these days but this certainly ain't my type of house, if that's what you're asking."

    Raylan snorted, leaning up on the wall. "What's wrong with it?"

    "Nothing in particular," Boyd admitted. "It just lacks a kind of country charm, don't you think?"

    Raylan was saved arguing over house interiors by Jiya coming in to find them. She had taken her coat off and let her hair down to Raylan's surprise. "We should discuss sleeping schedules."

    "You warm?" Raylan asked.

    "It is nice out there. Weston turned the heat on."

    Raylan exchanged a look with Boyd and they followed her out into the living room, letting the door close behind them. Jiya wasn't wrong- the living room wasn't exactly warm but it was somewhat improved. Weston was lounging on the couch with his eyes closed and Raylan flicked the back of his head. "Why don't you get some sleep. I'm wide awake."

    "Because of Rachel?" Jiya murmured. She watched Weston rub his face and slowly sit up. "Raylan, you maybe should sleep a while."

    He took his hat off and placed it carefully on the coffee table, a glass-top thing that he wasn't as sure about, decor wise. He avoided meeting her gaze and said, "I'm serious. Ain't no way I'm gonna get to sleep. Y'all might as well let me stay up and guard the place. I'm fine."

    "Okay," Jiya allowed, because she was a reasonable person and damn did Raylan ever appreciate that. "Boyd, Weston? There are three bedrooms."

    Weston dragged himself up and yawned, nodding distractedly. "Uh-huh. Sleep's happenin'."

    Boyd hesitated, beginning to unravel his scarf from around his neck. He looked at Raylan. "Well, I think I'll stay up, if it's all the same to Raylan. Probably best to pair up for shifts, in case someone falls asleep."

    Jiya just shrugged and waved goodnight to them, following Weston out of the room, her voice becoming quieter and quieter as she talked about dust and germs and that she hadn't found a single insect. Once he heard the sound of two doors close, Raylan glanced at Boyd and said, "You don't gotta keep me company."

    Boyd watched him sit down on the couch, then picked up the cord for the floor lamp and looked for a switch on it. "I'll leave you alone if you'd like."

    Raylan didn't reply. The light switching on by the other end of the couch made him blink a while. It was such an odd sight, the light casting an orange glow over the fabric. He hadn't seen a proper light on in months. It reminded him of his Kentucky motel, of his old Miami apartment, of Rachel's living room with its big flat-screen that they used to watch old westerns on when he got to pick the movie. He swallowed and rubbed his jaw, nausea returning for the second time that night over the thought of Rachel. Or morning, he supposed. The sun would rise soon and he wondered how much light would make its way in through the gaps they hadn't covered over the windowpanes. He wondered if it would fill him with nostalgia too, a homesickness he'd never be able to satisfy. 

    He said, "Don't mind you staying."

    Boyd walked around the couch and stopped beside him, resting his hip on the arm of the couch. He folded his hands in his lap and gave Raylan one of those looks like he knew what was on his mind but was trying not to pry. After a moment Raylan found himself saying, "I could have done something different. It's my fault."

    Boyd reached a hand out and touched the side of Raylan's head, then ran his fingers through his hair. It felt nice and it also felt intimate, and it made Raylan's pulse jog fast in his throat. Boyd didn't say anything at first, just worked his fingers through the knots in his hair, and then he murmured, "Tell me what you're thinkin'."

    Normally Raylan would have been hard-pressed to go on about what was on his mind, especially in front of Boyd. He could speak his mind about things he didn't care so much about but he never felt comfortable talking about how he felt when it came to anything that really mattered to him. It had pissed off Winona plenty, and often made him resent her for getting mad about it which didn't help a whole lot. He looked Boyd in the eyes again, feeling his fingernails run over his scalp, and he was suddenly compelled to tell him everything that was on his mind. He wanted to know what that felt like. "I just feel like- I should'a been ready for it. I knew that taking James hostage meant he might have protections in place and I didn't even warn her first. And I shouldn't have gone so far east to get away, it was stupid. Just... I failed her. She's my partner and I left her behind."

    Boyd took his hand away and moved away from the arm, sitting down on the couch beside him instead. "You know you didn't really leave her behind, right? Maybe we should have woken everyone in the first place, but how do you know it would have changed anything? We didn't see any of his men even when we were at the tents waking everyone up. We were outnumbered and there weren't no way around that."

    "I shoulda... I owed her better'n that."

    "It's not your fault," Boyd murmured, voice low. He placed a tentative hand on Raylan's shoulder and Raylan leaned into it. "It's not."

    Raylan looked down at his hands and worried a hangnail. He didn't know what else to look at. "And yet this ain't the first time you've had to say that this week."

    Boyd moved a little closer to him, fingers sliding around until his hand came to rest between his shoulder blades. Raylan wanted to take his coat off to feel it better but he didn't want to be weird about it. He ran his tongue over his teeth and shrugged, avoiding eye contact, and Boyd said, "That's because you put too much on yourself."

    "Bullshit," Raylan argued, aware suddenly of how thirsty he was and how much his back ached. He rubbed his forehead, wondering how long they were going to end up awake for, and added, "Being a marshal- being Rachel's partner- was the only thing I was ever good at. Now- I'm not even a marshal anymore, not just because there ain't a marshals office anymore but because I'm a fuckin' joke, Boyd. I'm an idiot, and an asshole, and a joke."

    He was startled by Boyd leaning in, his forehead coming to rest so light against his temple. Raylan froze up, but Boyd's thumb rubbed the back of Raylan's neck and he whispered, "That's not true. Raylan... I ain't gonna lecture you, or tell you that you wrong for feeling anything you feel. But ain't a soul blaming you for circumstances you can't control. Not anymore." He paused, leaning back again and brushing a knuckle against Raylan's stubbly jaw. "I know your mama, your daddy, your boss put more on you your whole life than they ever should'a, but no matter how much you wish otherwise, you're just a man. A good man, but a man nonetheless."

    "You of all people don't think I'm just a fuck-up?" Raylan found himself asking, voice hoarse and quiet. 

    Boyd shook his head. "I do not. I also think Rachel will find us in no time flat because she's smart and capable and knows you well. She's the kind of person... that I always wished I could have been for you."

    Raylan looked at him in time to catch how teary-eyed he was. He wanted to reach for him but Boyd stood up from the couch and let out a shaky breath. "Why don't I get you something to drink, alright?"

    "Alright," Raylan managed in reply. 

    Boyd came back with a glass of cooled water that they'd boiled on the stove while they worked. He hesitated next to the couch, holding it in both hands. Raylan let his eyes roam over his fingers, his wrists, the way he held the cup. He loved his hands. Maybe more than just his hands. Now that Boyd had touched him, had strayed so close to him, he was becoming harder to resist. He gave Raylan a funny little smile and said, "We were always partners in a sense when we were kids. I'm sorry that we... grew apart where that was concerned. I missed you so much."

    Raylan motioned for him to come closer and Boyd put the cup down and did, expression curious. Raylan touched him carefully on the waist and pulled him down on his hip, hiding his face in Boyd's shoulder when Boyd settled in against him. His heart was beating hard and fast. He felt embarrassed by such an obvious display of affection and nervous that Boyd would push him away, nervous that he'd misread things between them. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, and he wasn't sure if he meant for pulling him close or for everything he'd apologized for hours ago. It seemed impossible that he'd brought Boyd back from the forest to the camp only hours prior when it felt so much like days.

    Boyd didn't shove at him though, didn't ask him what he was doing or draw attention to it. He just cupped the back of Raylan's head and ran his fingers through his hair again like it was something they did every day, solid and warm and kind. "It's okay now," Boyd whispered, and Raylan realized he could hear his heart beating fast too against his collarbone. He wondered if Boyd felt the same tension between them, and then Boyd added, "What I said before was the truth. You've always been the love of my life, and you always will be. Ain't nothin' you could do that I couldn't forgive."

    Raylan screwed up his face and pressed him closer, then decided that wasn't enough and lifted his head up to kiss him. It was a clumsy kiss but it still made him feel dizzy. Boyd inhaled slowly, then reached for his free hand and held it against his thigh, lacing their fingers slowly in a gesture that held promise and purpose. Raylan mumbled, "Thank you," against his mouth, and Boyd kissed him back again and again, small kisses that reassured him to his core and put him somewhat at ease for the first time in a good twenty-four hours. 

    "You sure this is okay?" Raylan thought to ask eventually, still half-mumbling. He was distracted by the sound of his heart in his ears and the feeling of Boyd gently tugging on his hair. 

    "Mhmm," Boyd hummed. He moved to settle a knee on the couch beside Raylan's thigh, and let his other knee frame Raylan's hip until he was settled mostly in his lap. He played with the zipper on Raylan's coat and Raylan let him, mesmerized. "This is more than okay," he added when Raylan took a breath.

    That was good. It felt right. He helped Boyd out of his coat as well, shrugging his own off and putting his hands on his waist while Boyd licked into his mouth and moaned. Boyd's hands made their way back up until his thumbs pressed behind Raylan's ears, fingers scratching at the back of his neck as Raylan broke off the kiss to mouth slow and easy at his jaw. "We probably shouldn't fuck on watch," Raylan whispered, letting his tongue linger over Boyd's Adam's apple and feeling him shiver. 

    "Probably not," Boyd agreed.

    "They're gonna have to take a turn eventually, though," Raylan reasoned. It felt good not to focus on his worry for a minute. He gave Boyd a nip on the crook of his neck and smiled when he got goosebumps all over his skin there. "Still. Nothin' saying I can't kiss you a while."

    Boyd hummed again, moving ever so slightly forward in his lap and settling his weight on Raylan's hard dick. He grabbed Raylan by the face, tugged on his lip with his teeth, sighed when he got a hand under Raylan's sweater. "There best not be. I like this."

    "God," Raylan admitted, "me too."

    They were interrupted by the sound of a door being shut and Boyd hopped out of his lap, sitting awkwardly beside him on the couch and staring up at the ceiling. Weston padded into the living room with a yawn. "Hey. Just gettin' water. Then more sleep."

    "Caveman," Raylan commented. "You could at least do us the honor of a full sentence." 

    He felt like he was babbling. He probably was. He was so sick of being interrupted just when he was getting Boyd all hot and bothered. Weston just grunted at him and stumbled back out of the kitchen, sloshing some water on himself. "Fuck," he commented.

    "Night," Boyd dismissed him.

    Raylan expected that Weston might have been suspicious of them had he been even slightly more awake, but he just shuffled back down the hall like a zombie instead. Boyd smiled when he took a look at him again, and Raylan asked, "What?"

    "Your hair's fucked. It's charming."

    Raylan smoothed his hair back with his palm but doubted he'd made any progress. Boyd got up and fished a book out from a drawer in the end table, because of course he'd already found a book. "We're done foolin' around until we got ourselves a private minute," he decided, laying down along the couch and putting a foot on Raylan's thigh. "Come here, though."

    Raylan looked at him, all sprawled out and looking back at him so fondly. He moved over and lay down alongside him, tucking his head on Boyd's chest and accepting the fact that he was tired. He ran his thumb up and down Boyd's ribs underneath his shirt and Boyd opened up the book, his voice spilling out over the pages and over Raylan's very soul. It was a pleasant, homey sound, and every time he moved a little or shifted his hand he was aware of Boyd so warm and soft beneath him and it traveled through him like an electric current. It felt like the afterglow of sleeping with someone new for the first time. Intimate and tense and weird.

    He thought it wasn't half-bad.

-

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the next chapter necessitates changing the rating on this one from M to E, so if you're not down to clown, this is your fic ending. thank you for reading.


	15. 10:29 a.m./92 days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as warned, my loves, this chapter has moved the fic from M to E

10:29 a.m.

92 days

 

    "Don't sulk, darlin', but I need you a minute."

    Raylan groaned. He was so fucking unbelievably tired. His brain realized he could fall back asleep and he did, for what felt like less than a second. Then something tugged on his hair. "Raylan, up."

    The sound of his name connected enough dots for him that he sat bolt upright, a surge of adrenaline making his head spin. He located Boyd's face in the dusky room. "Uh?"

    Boyd handed him his gun carefully. He put a hand on Raylan's shoulder. "I can hear someone outside. Now I don't know if it's friend or foe, but I'd prefer if you weren't snoring while I got a bullet put between my eyes."

    "I don't snore," Raylan mumbled, checking the chamber on his pistol. 

    "Great takeaway, Raylan."

    "Right." He stood up, hearing his back crack, and Boyd left his side for the wall next to the front door. He held his gun like a LEO and Raylan wondered momentarily if Boyd would have been a marshal too had they left Harlan together. He pushed the thought away and joined him on the other side, listening carefully. He held his breath and heard the telltale clicking of someone trying the door handle. The door was too sturdy to hack through, the door handle secure enough that it didn't move on their end. He inhaled through his nose and mouthed, Don't move, to Boyd.

    Boyd frowned at him, mouthed, Why? But Raylan listened for the footsteps to back up, then reached out carefully and turned the lock on the door. He gestured to Boyd to take a look and let the door swing open slowly. Boyd aimed his gun as the gap of morning light began to pour in along the floor, then lowered it almost immediately. He holstered the weapon and kicked the door the rest of the way open. "Well get on in here, woman. It is cold out there!"

    Raylan put his gun away with shaky hands and stumbled past Boyd and out the door. Rachel smiled at him wearily. The bags under her eyes were heavy but she looked alright otherwise and she wasn't limping as she met him halfway across the porch. "Hey, Raylan."

    "You scared the hell out of me," he told her, hugging her tight. 

    She hugged him back, patting him and smiling when he let her go. "You do care."

    "Shut up," he mumbled. The relief flooding him made it hard to be too grumpy about it though. He locked the door behind her as she followed Boyd into the living room.

    Rachel looked puzzled. "Is it just me or is it actually almost warm in here?"

    "Backup generator," Boyd informed her. He disappeared into the kitchen and came out with a glass of water for her, which she took gratefully. "Jiya and Weston are fine as well. They're just asleep. It was our turn on watch."

    "Yeah, sorry about that," Raylan managed. He felt pretty ashamed that he'd fallen asleep.

    Boyd smiled and touched his arm. "It's fine, Raylan. Rachel, you gotta be exhausted."

    "Pretty tired," she admitted.

    They sat down on the couches, Boyd getting comfortable beside Raylan without hesitation. Raylan obsessed over how close they were sitting, wondering if it looked weird to Rachel. Wondering if he could still find the time to fool around with Boyd. Boyd said, "Not that I ain't glad you found us, Rachel, and not that I don't trust that you're head and shoulders above James's group in terms of intelligence, but it don't bode too well for us that it only took you a few hours."

    Rachel took a sip of her water and unzipped her coat. "Yeah, you're not wrong."

    "Rachel," Raylan began, but he wasn't sure how to communicate just how sorry he was. "I- I'm sorry that I wasn't-"

    She paused, looked at him from across the coffee table. "If you're going to apologize for leaving me behind right now like we didn't all consciously split up, I'm gonna throw the rest of my water on you."

    "Okay," he allowed. Boyd patted him soft on the back and Raylan tried not to let it fluster him in front of Rachel.

    "We're outgunned and outnumbered," Boyd said, changing the subject, and Raylan wondered if that was the first hallmark of everyone deciding it was time to leave.

    Jiya entered the living room then with Weston right behind her, lighting up at the sight of Rachel and running to give her a big hug. Weston waited until she'd moved and then gave Rachel a fist-bump. "Good to see you, man."

    "What's this about being outnumbered?" Jiya asked, sitting down beside Rachel and hooking her arm through hers. "Should we be concerned?"

    "I'm just speaking theoretically," Boyd replied, stifling a yawn. "My point is only that if James finds us even half as fast as Rachel did, we might be in for one hell of a fight."

    "Then we stay and fight," Weston said plainly. 

    Raylan raised his eyebrows and picked his hat up off the coffee table, setting it down on his head. "Really?"

    "The place has a cistern and a septic tank and a solar power," Jiya told Rachel, patting her elbow. "It is an excellent find. I think Weston's right, and you know... if we fixed up that extra room, we could probably take in some of the good people from James's camp if we ever come across them."

    "Well shit," Raylan said, leaning back against the couch. He lay his arms along the back of it and realized belatedly that it looked like he was putting a very classic move on Boyd. He tried to pretend he wasn't self-conscious about it. "I'm good with that. The place shouldn't be too hard to keep guarded, especially with there being five of us. Boyd, Rachel?"

    Rachel shrugged and nodded and Boyd leaned back into his arm and seemed to think about it. "I like the idea," he decided around another yawn. "It seems vastly preferable to wandering around cluelessly in the snow."

    "Gettin' tired, Boyd?" Weston looked like he was trying not to laugh.

    Boyd yawned again and tilted his head. "Perhaps."

    "How about Weston and I stay awake and the three of you get some rest?" Jiya suggested. "It's your turn anyway. Oh, and the beds have clean sheets on them, you're welcome."

    "Think I'll shower first actually, assuming the water in any of the bathrooms is running." Boyd leaned forward and started to get up.

    Raylan blinked and watched him stretch. Weston said, "Both seem fine. The shower in the one at the end of the hall is pretty nice."

    "Wonderful. Someone wake me when it's my turn to be up." Boyd looked at Rachel. "I'm glad you're back. Goodnight, everyone."

    "Night, Boyd," Rachel said, and Weston and Jiya joined her in chorus.

    Boyd lingered just for a moment under the pretense of picking up his glass of water from the end table. Raylan caught his gaze and Boyd tilted his chin down just slightly, raising his eyebrows and giving him a small smile. Raylan was aware that he was just staring at him like an idiot but he couldn't help himself. The idea that Boyd wanted to get away with him for a while, wanted to touch him, kind of short-circuited his brain. He cleared his throat eventually and Rachel stared up at the ceiling and said, "Raylan, you wanna show me where the bedrooms are?"

    "Yeah. I should get some sleep too."

    Once they were out of earshot in the hallway, Rachel grinned from ear to ear. Raylan immediately knew that she knew. "You two sure made up, huh?"

    "Mhm," Raylan replied, tipping his hat down slightly. 

    "I mean, you really made up."

    "So glad you're back."

    Rachel laughed, hand on the doorknob to the bedroom Raylan gestured to. He smiled despite himself and admitted, "I really am. I don't know what we'd all do without you."

    "What you'd do without me," Rachel corrected him.

    It was true. "Yeah."

    She bid him goodnight, and Raylan watched her close the door and then took a deep breath to steady himself. There was a glow from underneath the bathroom door, and Raylan could hear the faint sound of water running. Now that Rachel was back and the worry that she'd taken with her was gone, all he could think about was that little look Boyd had given him over his glass of water. Boyd had only looked at him like that for a brief period when they were nineteen, and it was so different now. 

    He opened the bathroom door and took his hat off, setting it down next to the sink. The shower was one of those big ones with a set of glass doors and he was a little disappointed that he couldn't see Boyd well through the fogged-over glass. The bathroom was hot and the mirrors already slightly steamy too, and Raylan unbuttoned the top of his jeans and said, "Hope you ain't burning yourself in there."

    "Oh, I am just fine," Boyd replied, voice somewhat muffled. "I cannot _tell_ you how good this feels."

    Raylan pulled his sweater over his head, glancing at himself in the mirror. He looked pretty rough, which was less than ideal. He took his undershirt off as well and raised one of his arms to see how much muscle mass he'd lost. It wasn't so bad, but he still felt odd in his skin. He hadn't been in front of a mirror in a while and he didn't feel like he looked quite right. He ran a hand through his hair and unzipped his jeans, looking away from his reflection. "You want some company?"

    "Mhm." Boyd's voice was low and almost scratchy and Raylan felt himself starting to get hard already. "You best join me soon though, 'fore I run out of patience."

    Raylan kicked his jeans off the rest of the way and shoved his boxers down with them. He didn't need to be told twice, not when Boyd had him so worked up. He started forward, but on second thought stopped to lock the bathroom door. If they got interrupted again someone was going to have to put a lot of effort into it. He was cold now that he was naked and he reached for the shower door, sliding it to the left and stepping inside. He closed it behind him and took in Boyd, soaking wet and skin flushed a healthy color that put Raylan's heart ever more at ease. He looked at Raylan over his shoulder and grinned. "Well hello there, cowboy."

    "Hey," Raylan whispered. It was as loud as his voice seemed to go and he reached out cautiously and put his palm on Boyd's hip, sliding it up his bare back to his shoulder. His skin was covered in scars. It always had been but it had been so many years since Raylan had seen him like this, naked in front of him and not hidden behind long sleeves and high collars. He thumbed over a scar he remembered between Boyd's shoulder blades, watched the back of his neck as Boyd tilted his head down slightly in response as though curving away from the map of belt scars running over his skin. Raylan took a step forward, putting his other hand on Boyd's waist and hoping Boyd couldn't feel that he was shaking slightly. His heart was beating hard and fast again and he skimmed his hand down Boyd's arm, curling his fingers around it and tugging him closer. He was so warm. "Can I kiss you?" 

    Boyd hummed and leaned into his touch. "Yes please."

    He moved to kiss Raylan on the mouth but Raylan wanted to take his time first. He knew once he kissed him proper that Boyd's tongue and his teeth would drive him nuts, and he wanted a minute first. He ducked his head and kissed Boyd's shoulder instead and was rewarded with a sigh and a kiss on the side of his face. Raylan held him with a hand on his ribs and followed a particularly brutal scar that weaved from Boyd's shoulder around to his back, kissing it slow and listening to Boyd breathe. "I 'member this one," he told him, mouthing at the back of Boyd's neck and tracing a scar on his shoulder blade with his thumb. "Your daddy was a bastard. I cleaned you up that night and kept ending up so close to you and I wanted to kiss you so bad. Wanted to make you feel better."

    Boyd reached back for him, curling a hand around the back of Raylan's neck to hold him close. "You tryin'a tease me, boy?"

    "Just wanna spend some time getting re-acquainted," Raylan murmured, sucking droplets of water off the side of Boyd's neck. "We ain't gonna be interrupted this time."

    "You best be right about that, 'cause if you're wrong I'ma lose my mind." 

    Raylan smiled and scraped his teeth slowly over the spot he'd been sucking. Boyd moaned and let go of Raylan's neck to slide his hand over his own cock instead. Raylan bit him harder. "Stop that. I wanna."

    Boyd huffed and let go of his dick and Raylan grabbed his hand to keep it busy, folding their hands up against Boyd's chest while he kissed his shoulder some more. Boyd was so hot and the water was so warm and Raylan was pretty sure that were he not hard against Boyd's ass that he could have stayed like that for hours. He kissed behind his ear and tugged on the shell of it with his teeth. Boyd groaned and turned on him, surprising him as he had before with his strength and dexterity. He pushed Raylan back a step and kissed him hard, hands on his chest. Raylan kissed him back gladly, smiling to himself, amused by Boyd's impatience. Boyd pulled back after a long moment, panting, mouthing at his jaw and his neck and anything he could reach. "You a pretty thing," he mumbled into Raylan's shoulder.

    "That so?" he asked, fingers trailing down Boyd's spine. He wasn't sure how to react to that compliment. "You ain't bad either."

    He could hear Boyd grinning as he kissed Raylan's ear. "Thought I was real bad."

    Raylan got him in another kiss and Boyd let him push him back against the wall. Raylan was aware that Boyd was letting him- he knew he could push back if he wanted to. It was hot, knowing Boyd liked him shoving him a little. "Not-" Raylan mumbled between kisses, "unless you feel like you gotta be."

    Boyd's chest was heaving and Raylan sucked on his bottom lip, felt up his hip, slid his hand down and grabbed rough at his thigh. Boyd whispered, "You want me to be bad?"

    Raylan shook his head. "I want you to be you."

    "Lord," Boyd said, opening his eyes. "Do you?"

    Raylan hesitated, wondering how deep Boyd wanted to get. He chose his words carefully, thumbing his soft skin, and decided, "I do. You done bad shit to other people. I done bad shit to you. I don't wanna fuck around with that anymore, worry about what's owed and what isn't. Already spent my life not going after what I wanted."

    "What have you always wanted?" Boyd asked, fingers splayed on his chest again and teasing his collarbone.

    "You," Raylan said dumbly. He'd figured Boyd knew that already.

    Boyd stared at him kind of intensely and then jumped him again, nails digging into the back of his neck and cock hard against his hip. Raylan got him by the hips and pushed him back again, eager and wanting him bad. He broke the kiss to thumb Boyd's lip, shuddering when Boyd said, "Come on boy, fuck me."

    Raylan groaned, kissing the corner of his lips. "Fuck, I want to."

    Boyd laughed hoarsely, skimming a hand down and grabbing at Raylan's ass. It made Raylan's dick ache. "On second thought, we ain't gonna get that far right now. You a soft touch, son."

    "I seem to recall you being fairly impatient just a few minutes ago," Raylan pointed out. He let go of his hips and took Boyd's wrists instead, pinning them against the wall behind him. Boyd let him move him again, not fighting back, and Raylan leaned in and kissed him slow, sucking on his tongue when Boyd licked at his upper lip. 

    Their hips were lined up enough that he could move his dick just a little against Boyd's and it made them both moan, Boyd laughing again when Raylan stopped kissing him to breathe. Raylan breathed hot and heavy over his skin and Boyd dipped his head and licked over Raylan's nipple, biting down gently and mumbling, "Told you," when Raylan almost came on the spot.

    Raylan pushed into him in response, kissing Boyd once on the jaw and lining up their hips better to rub up on him. Boyd moaned and grabbed his shoulders for balance, and Raylan let him even though he was tempted to put his hands back up against the wall. He knew Boyd was too tactile a person to stand it. Boyd caught him staring and smiled at him, then shuddered again when Raylan's dick slid against his. Raylan groaned, the light friction enough to make him desperate again. He kissed Boyd's jaw and then his ear, mouthing there and licking off a drop of water. "I never could resist you," he whispered, reaching for Boyd's side and feeling him up. "I wanna make you feel so good."

    Boyd made an almost helpless sound, and Raylan raised an eyebrow and thought about it. He dragged his lips along his cheekbone and decided to see just what got Boyd off these days. "You wanna hear me talk a while?"

    Boyd's head thunked back against the wall. He nodded hard and Raylan laughed and put his face against the crook of his neck for a second. "Now who's the soft touch."

    "Don't be cruel," Boyd whined.

    "Mm, that's the last thing I wanna be," Raylan told him, kissing the side of his neck and then his ear again. He reached between them and grabbed his cock, stroking him once from base to tip and feeling Boyd grab him rough by the shoulder again. He had a thumbnail deep in the skin there, which Raylan took as a compliment. "You like that, huh? Shit, I never do this. Talk during sex, I mean, not handjobs. Although- not the point. Just... letting you know you're gettin' special treatment. Best appreciate it."

    Boyd bit his own lip, eyes closed and face flushed pink. He was so hard and shaky already and it made Raylan feel pretty damn proud. "God, Raylan."

    Raylan kissed him high on the cheek, soft on the chin, the corner of his lips. He worked his cock up and down, thumbing over the head. It had been a while since he'd jerked off anyone but himself, but it didn't feel that weird. It felt like anything else, except that he really really liked it. "This is good, huh? Gotta say, when I was thinkin' about this I was thinking about shoving you up against a wall and fucking that nice ass of yours." His face heated up, but he pressed on, liking that it turned Boyd on. "But I think this is even better, seeing you all wrecked just 'cause I'm touching your dick. You better moan my name when you come."

    "Fuck," Boyd gasped. He grabbed hold of Raylan's face and kissed him hard, moaning when Raylan sped up his hand and digging his fingers in behind his jaw. "My Lord, Raylan, yes."

    Raylan tried to think of a response but he just wanted to kiss him, so he did. Boyd all but melted, and when Raylan started pressing his thumb under the head of his cock with every stroke he knew Boyd wasn't long for self-control. He kissed him softer and pressed his forehead to Boyd's. "You gonna come?" he breathed, worked up from thinking about it.

    "Uh-huh," Boyd managed, having thrown his normal eloquence out the window. 

    He nudged his nose against Boyd's and kept the same pace, whispered, "Come for me," and watched Boyd fall apart.

    He came thick and hard, moaning Raylan's name just like he'd wanted and clutching him for dear life. Raylan worked him through it and kissed him as Boyd trembled, slowly taking his hand away when he felt him gasp. They kissed slow for a while, Boyd running his hands up Raylan's body and back down again like he was trying to touch all of him, map him out. Raylan was uncomfortably hard but he figured it pretty rude to rush him. After all, he had totally shattered Boyd's world. 

    Eventually Boyd pushed him back slightly, almost rough, and stretched slowly. "My goodness," he sighed.

    "Feelin' good?" Raylan asked, grinning.

    "I am."

    He watched as Boyd sunk to knees in front of him, smoothing his palms down the sides of Raylan's legs and looking up at him. He raised an eyebrow in response and Boyd smiled the kind of smile he used to have on his face before he did something he knew would make it hard for Raylan not to arrest him. "How about I show you what a man you are?"

    "Okay," Raylan said, trying to think of something smarter to say. He came up with nothing.

    Boyd held his gaze as he leaned in and took the head of Raylan's cock in his mouth. Raylan had to clench his jaw to keep from losing it, bracing himself with a hand on the wall in front of him. It felt fucking incredible, Boyd's wet mouth tight around him as he sucked him, fingers brushing over his balls as he took the base of his cock with his hand and squeezed lightly. Raylan shuddered and watched him and Boyd leaned further in and took him deeper than Raylan thought he'd be able. Boyd moaned loud around him and Raylan wondered how long he'd actually be able to hold out for. 

    "You ain't bad at that," he admitted, running his free hand through Boyd's hair.

    Boyd pulled back momentarily. "I know," he informed him, stroking him once with his hand and licking a stripe up the underside of his dick. 

    "Okay," Raylan decided, and let Boyd get back to it.

   

-


	16. 1:49 p.m./92 days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw for rape mention  
> "hey what's your excuse for forgetting to post this for like a month or two" uhhhhhh

1:49 p.m.

92 days   

 

    Boyd was breathing heavy, fingers twisted in the sheets. He sounded completely exhausted and Raylan felt pretty good about that. He kissed him on the hip and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then set his chin on him and waited for Boyd to come down. It was interesting, seeing him in such a way. Boyd rarely was anything but composed and calm and to see him so thoroughly messy and undone was like seeing someone brand new. 

    "Good Lord. You didn't have to do that. We were already even," Boyd managed, chest still rising and falling heavily with every breath. 

    "Yeah, well." It wasn't like Raylan exactly minded sucking cock. "All I gave you in the shower was a handjob."

    "One hell of a handjob."

    "Well." Raylan let go of the argument, too tired to care. His eyes roamed over Boyd's pale skin to the cut still evident on the inside of his thigh, long and pink. Boyd still hadn't told him what it was from. He reached a hand out and caressed the thick line, watching goosebumps form where his fingers had been. "Where'd you get this?"

    "I already told you, boy."

    Raylan lifted his head up, one hell of a task considering how sleepy he was, and lowered his mouth to Boyd's thigh. He kissed the end of the scar and smoothed a hand up his body, stroking his ribs. "You told me a lie."

    He watched Boyd rub his face. "You ruinin' the afterglow, Raylan Givens."

    Raylan sighed and put his cheek back down on Boyd's hip. One of Boyd's hands was close enough to reach, so Raylan touched his wrist, stroked his palm, played with his fingers while they lay there together. Boyd was illuminated by the faint glow from the lamp turned down to its lowest setting, and Raylan tapped his fingers over his hipbone and wished it didn't stick out so far. He didn't have any complaints about Boyd's body but he hated to think he wasn't getting enough to eat. His eyes wandered back to the spot on his leg and he asked, "Can I say one thing?"

    "Lord knows you'll say another."

    Raylan felt Boyd's fingers in his hair and closed his eyes, soaking in the feeling as he said, "I promise not to bring it up again. I just wanna say that... I don't care how you got it, unless you care to tell me. Because I know someone would have had to get damn close to you to cut you there. And if that's something you wanna talk about..."

    Boyd was silent a long time. Then he said, "In my jeans, there's a bag of pills. Would you mind?"

    Raylan was feeling fairly obliging, and he pushed himself up and picked up Boyd's jeans. He found the bag and wondered when Boyd had found the time to make sure they were the one thing he didn't leave behind. He held the bag by the plastic top and looked over at Boyd, serious in the almost-dark of the room. It was day outside but with the windows covered the lamp made it feel like it was late at night. "You sure?"

    Boyd held out a hand. "You can hand me them pills, or you can deal with me going through withdrawal. The latter ain't so fun without a hospital and anti-seizure medications at your fingertips. 'Course, if you feel like-"

    "Right," Raylan sighed, handing him the bag. "Got it."

    Boyd watched him carefully as he got back into bed, taking a couple of pills as he did. "Regretting things so soon?"

    Raylan must have had one hell of a look on his face. He blinked, sitting down beside him and knitting his eyebrows together at Boyd's words. "No. I just... wish you weren't taking those."

    "I know I must be disappointing you," Boyd replied, voice quiet and almost numb. His mouth was a bitter twist. "My apologies."

    "Hey," Raylan whispered. He moved to lay down beside him, touching the big thick scar on Boyd's bicep. "Don't apologize to me. That ain't the point. And I ain't disappointed either. Just worried."

    Boyd still didn't look entirely reassured, so Raylan moved down enough to kiss him on the ribs, feeling pretty confident that if he just kissed him all night, Boyd couldn't be too upset. Boyd arched his back in a slow stretch and Raylan watched the muscles in his abdomen tighten and relax. It took him a little by surprise when Boyd whispered, "You still want me to spill my guts to you?"

    "Yeah," Raylan acknowledged, kissing him close to his sternum. "I do."

    Boyd stretched one leg, bending it at the knee and rotating his ankle slowly. "I mentioned I was travelling with some men before I happened across you."

    "You did." He closed his eyes and let his cheek rest on him again, the sound of Boyd's voice a soothing thing. He wanted to listen but he also wanted to drift forever, warm and relaxed.

    "Yes, well. They weren't the best folks I ever met. This one man... one night I was awake when everyone else was asleep. He was awake as well, and he tried to start somewhat of an argument with me, some issue or another. I wasn't interested but that just made him angrier. He-" Boyd paused, lifting a hand and examining his fingernails. His voice had dropped to almost a whisper and he wouldn't look at Raylan as he said, "There wasn't much of an altercation. He attempted to force himself on me and when I fought back he cut up my leg. He was stronger and taller and when he looked away to undo his pants I stabbed him twice between the ribs. I knew when everyone else woke up they'd see that I'd killed him, or nearly killed him, so I left. I lied to you about it because... well, I figured that if you knew I'd stabbed someone and left them for dead, or that if you knew I was running with the kind of people who acted like that, you'd think it my own fault, that I'd done something evil. Or that I deserved it, which perhaps I did. I'm sure there are things I've done that I deserve far worse than rape for."

    Raylan felt like the biggest asshole in the universe. He stayed as still as possible and finally managed to tell him, "I promise if I'd been there I'da killed the guy myself."

    Boyd didn't respond, so Raylan reached down and brushed a thumb over the scar from the cut, then moved over enough to kiss the bullet scar he'd left in Boyd's chest. It was a soft lingering kiss and he thought about Boyd bleeding out on the floor and felt sick.

    Boyd said, "I didn't figure you for the kind of cowboy who'd kill for a man's honor."

    "It's got nothing to do with honor," Raylan replied immediately, looking at his face and seeing how far away he looked. He couldn't stand that Boyd hadn't told him for fear of his judgment. He sat up and got out of the bed again, finding his own jeans and pulling out the pocket knife Boyd had given back to him. He got back into bed and held it out to him. "If anyone ever touches you like that again- you got my blessing to make sure that person never moves another muscle."

    Boyd took the knife and held it in both hands, staring down at the handle. Once he'd examined it he placed it on the bedside table and looked at Raylan again. "You mean that, don't you."

    "I do," Raylan affirmed. He lay down again slowly, troubled that Boyd had kept a secret like that from him. He never wanted anyone to think he was the kind of man who'd blame someone for fighting back. "I'm real glad you protected yourself, and that you're here now."

    Boyd turned his face towards him, then got up and moved over, crawling on top of him and kissing him sound on the mouth. Raylan was alright with that. He hugged Boyd around the waist and kissed him right back, amazed by how much warmth he generated even though the room was starting to cool him. Eventually Boyd whispered, "If we're planning on getting any sleep at all, we oughta start tryin' to do so."

    "Five more minutes," Raylan mumbled, catching his bottom lip.

    "Okay, Raylan."

    They kissed for another five or ten or twenty, Boyd only squirming away from him when Raylan started getting hard again. "Do not start."

    "Ain't my fault when you kiss so good," Raylan defended himself. He kissed Boyd on the shoulder but let him lay down on the other side. 

    "We're gonna need new clothes soon," Boyd murmured. "Oughta raid a mall or something."

    "I don't know. I prefer you naked."

    Boyd gave him a look. "Be that as it may, Raylan."

    Raylan winked at him and Boyd smiled a tiny smile. Raylan leaned over and gave him another kiss, then watched Boyd roll onto his stomach and hug his pillow. He turned the lamp off for him and sat on the bed awkwardly. He wasn't sure if he should stay or go or ask Boyd what he'd prefer and he felt wide awake. He thought Boyd had already fallen asleep but instead heard him mumble, "What's botherin' you?"

    Raylan fidgeted, unsure of how to explain. He cleared his throat but Boyd, doing him the blessed act of not making him use his words, surmised, "You best not have plans to go anywhere and leave me to freeze."

    "Wouldn't entertain the thought for a second," Raylan told him. He smiled and pulled the sheets up over them, rolling onto his side. He looked at the vague outline of Boyd's spine and reached out, running his fingers up and down his back. Boyd made a sleepy sound of contentment and fell asleep like that, Raylan rubbing his lower back and watching him breathe.

-

    Raylan woke up to the sound of knocking. He stumbled out of bed and pulled his jeans on, pausing only to kiss Boyd once on his incredibly grumpy face and remind him, "Think it's our turn to watch."

    He threw Boyd his shirt as he went to the door, opening it enough to see Rachel. "Sec," he told her, and re-emerged mostly clothed, shutting the door behind him and hearing Boyd mumble under his breath. "Hey."

    "Hey. Nice hair."

    "You get some rest?" Raylan asked her, ignoring the pointed comment.

    "I did. Did you, though?"

    "Uh-huh." Raylan touched his head and wondered where his hat was. He frowned and opened the bedroom door a little. "My hat in there?"

    "How the fuck should I know?" Boyd asked, soundly mostly-asleep.

    "Lovely."

    Rachel grinned. "He in a mood?"

    "Didn't get his beauty sleep."

    "Well damn."

    Raylan stifled a yawn behind his hand and asked, "Jiya and Weston go to bed yet?"

    "Yeah, they just did."

    "You can join 'em, if you want," he offered.

    "Mm, think I better stay up so you two don;'t get too distracted," Rachel replied innocently.

    Boyd opened the door as Rachel giggled at Raylan's expression. He shoved Raylan's hat at him and rubbed at his eyes, squinting at Rachel. "I don't know what all this is about," he told them, "and I don't think I care to."

    "You don't," Raylan assured him.

    They sat around the coffee table and played Scrabble. Raylan had never won a game of Scrabble against Boyd so long as he'd been alive, but it wasn't a bad time trying to puzzle out words while Rachel scoffed indignantly and challenged Boyd on a variety of words that Raylan also thought were bullshit (they weren't, as it turned out). It wasn't bad, Boyd tapping his foot against Raylan's beneath the table, the thermostat warming them all like it wasn't below freezing outside. It felt in a way like home.

    The gunshot was so loud in the calm and the quiet that it startled Raylan into dropping his tiles. He looked across the table at Rachel and he knew in that moment all the possibilities that surrounded them. He glanced at Boyd and saw his own fear reflected in his eyes, and as he stood to make his way to the door, hand on his trusty gun, he put his hat on his head and steeled himself for whatever came next.

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End file.
